A review by corncobwebs
The Absence of Sparrows by Kurt Kirchmeier

We always think of birds as being such small and breakable things, all soft feathers and no weight at all, wings of little more substance than toothpicks and parchment paper, and yet when we humans are balled up under blankets in front of the fireplace, they’re out there in the harsh world enduring it all, and not only that, but they’re singing.