I am steeped in the sticks and stuck on the sky.
The sky is wider than a Twitter feed.
Unplug for a spell, and you’ll understand why
to over feed is to sleep with a capital lie.
The sparrow prefers a world that is wide, and treed.
I am steeped in the sticks and stuck on the sky,
and drawn to the root where the river runs dry.
The sound of the rain is a scattering seed.
Unplug for a spell and you’ll understand why
what you feed is the same as what you buy.
We’ve been given the lobe, and the mighty bleed.
I am steeped in the sticks and stuck on the sky—
a crescent moon and the stars are my fourth of July.
The sparrow prefers an action to a creed.
Unplug for a spell and you’ll understand why
it’s good to be kind outside the public eye.
To learn the difference between word, and deed.
I am steeped in the sticks, and stuck on the sky;
unplug for a spell, and you’ll understand why.