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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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                                        Quiet

 

Silence after too many words:

that works, too.

 

A Saturday morning in July, driving

north on Interstate 35, my wife and I,

to bring our daughter home from camp.

 

Somewhere past the sad subdivisions

near Forest Lake, we passed a swamp,

which I told her I had one time heard

was the southernmost tamarack bog in Minnesota. 


In fact, I don’t think she understood

then, or could tell you now,

what a tamarack is.

It does not have to matter.


A Brown Thrasher flew across

the road, west to east, before

disappearing into the deeper woods.

 

Two middle-aged parents on the road,

who know everything.

 

 

                               —James Silas Rogers