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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Nothing Ever Dies

 

 

In the middle of autumn

do you hear yellow explosions?

                              ~Pablo Neruda

 

It’s no longer surprising when summer begins

to crinkle at its pinked edges, and in spite of rain,

nothing smooths out, supple and green as a field

of wheat swelling in wind’s constant indecision.

 

Over and over, and over, everything appears to be

the same.  Yet, all of our life, it’s been a subtle

expectation— something will change by the way

the sun shifts in the sky. We sense the second

 

it happens: that gush of light in heady marigolds;

the heavy scent of moss and yellow leaves set

loose in the weight of our steps. We’re pleased

by this ticklish thrill. Nothing ever dies.

 

                                                 —M.J. Iuppa