A Curtal Sonnet for 9/11

We almost canonize the dogs that grieve
their dying masters’ final days in bed
with wag and whimper measures of relief.

The robin will regurgitate the dead,
small bugs and earthworms, with the only aim
to nourish nestlings eager to be fed.

While some would kill the guiltless to acclaim
their God, there too was Joe or Jane, hellbent,
who knew the souls within, if not by name,
to be delivered when the blue sky went
insane.