Throwing seeds to the dark snow,
I found a sparrow near the door.
I used the empty seed bag to lift it up.
A broken part like a bony ear
jutted from its forehead.
I shuddered it into the garbage,
hurried to close the ties. Ted said
what he thought was a plastic
at the roadside was the body of a woman
hit by a car. His son had to tell him stop.
When the cops came, Ted was
breath audible, terrified face.
Hours passed before they let him go.
Ted's an officer of the church.
I don't know why I never liked Ted.
He's been asking about guilt, about
redemption, the same questions