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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Twelfth Night



Four-thirty p.m., the sun tangled
in copper clouds and cat’s-cradle branches.
Deep blue shadow-seam of the Glen yawning.

On our way back to ordinary time:
Epiphany, then that long tract of winter
before the touch of Easter’s kindness.

Cherished ornaments soon to take their
accustomed places in storage boxes like
photos of departed family members,

and joys of the gifts—both the unwrapping
and the wrapping—dim as childhood
memory in that corner where the tree stood.

Ah, though, didn’t we succeed a little
while in making “Christmas on the earth,”
call the old ones in for a cup of warmth?

As dusk darkens, strings of lights double
in the window, one more evening bringing
gaiety to streets left out in the cold.

                           -Thomas R. Smith