Modern Sonnet To A Sparrow

The common sparrow is long gone from gardens:
flown to the West Coast
to become a hawk or peacock,
to seek treatment for his feather allergy,
to bask beside a bird-bath,
where his every squawk is broadcast:
beamed across a tile-blue sky,
a flat-screen ceramic simulation
of peck-both-cheeks perfection -
dude, you're really flying -
while eaves are silent, empty...
suburban trees abandoned
and phone-wires ungripped by claws
that perch on more precarious heights.