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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Autumn Revival

                                       

The day sky turned gold lamé,

God must have brushed back his hair.

I couldn’t help but smirk at the moon.

                               

We slogged up an unkempt bootlegger

path that sloughed through slug-moss,

like sweatdrops mazing the thickened

eyebrows of a seasoned old man.

The varicose roots of blackjack oaks

offered footholds to pilgrim’s progress.

 

Change crisped the woods, and quickened

her geriatric colors. Gingersnap and burnt

orange held an autumn revival, and danced

in the spirit, like the gifts I have witnessed

arise from young hearts.

 

A polished creek stone wooed his stream

off a cliff, to a mountain elf’s Ruby

Falls tune, hurling her pearls—

                                            at Old Smoky.

 

                                    Kevin Heaton