I throw poems at the sparrow in my rafters...

I throw poems at the sparrow in my rafters. She is unmoved. I crack a window and go for a walk. I imagine the bird gathering my poems for her nest. When I return, the bird is gone, but the poems remain.

Before tossing them in the wastebasket, I open one: "The stars have a better view, but know nothing of heartbreak."

I nap and quickly rise to change "but" to "and." Then, I change it back.