A scarlet glint across a forest floor,
Though distant, lured me from a lane
To find what seemed  a solitary flower—
But proved instead a garish cola can.
The brazen glare against the spring-sprung grass
Produced contempt that only men provoke,
Led me to flee the desecrated place,
Chagrined at mankind– and my mistake.
But later at a mall on fields of tar
I saw within a massive metal “O,”
One letter in the sign above a store,
A sparrow’s nest, a tidy avian home,
Warmed by neon tubes, secure on tin—
And then  I felt confusion, not chagrin.



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