Unanswered Mail

The news is shouting about a war

and I can't find the clicker to make it stop.

I’m yelling at the ceiling, or the floor,

waiting for the other shoe to drop.

A sparrow hit the window glass—

a thud, a smudge, a puff of gray.

I watched the minutes slowly pass

while it blinked its little life away.

The cat was watching, calm and thin,

from the safety of the indoor heat.

There’s a dark square where the cross had been,

now just a shadow of a retreat.