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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Dustbowl




Day rose clear

Blue beautiful.
Green too much
to ask, we didn't
Muddy sheets
torn from windows
to tubs, scrubbing
singing, our labor
in bubbles floating

Stretched arms and legs
pitiful grateful for sunlight
softened by rain, sweetness

of damp-rich air.

Five year old Andrew,
Dandelion-headed Jack
their cracked, bare feet
running circles spiraling dust

devils caught a butterfly.
Faces of wonder cauled

in red, wide-eyed laughing
at the wing-dust shimmering

omen streaking fingers
soon, too soon to be angels

Came the mountain
fast and black
across the plain.

From war's wheat-fallowed
fields, ten thousand feet
of dirt wept shrouds.
Tiny hands sparked against
hands ringing tinder-strike

Halo of burning hair.

We, who there survived
closed our eyes against the blazing dark.


                                           -Lesley Weston