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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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You Sing In Your Sleep Too

 

Study silence and notice:

coloratura swallows, the drone

of the dryer downstairs. In the quiet,

 

next door someone’s hammering, out front

a repeating bleat of a backing truck, canceling

a grumble of a single-engine sea plane. There's

 

the old refrigerator’s quiver. Sometimes

a crow punctuates the lull.

On the back walk in the sunlight I see

 

sparrows flocked and hold my breath

trying to keep silent, but I exhale. 

They hear me, they feel

 

the sound, a different breath of wind,

for they lift, pivot and disappear.

You tell me you can’t stand quiet.

 

Accompany yourself with radio, TV

and your own voice speaking to no one.

Are you afraid you are alone

 

without sound? Come.

Come out into the morning sun.

I will sing you birdsongs

 

whisper their names in your ear

and when you turn

the faint volume of your breath

will brush my lips.

 

                            —Carol Levin

                   
                                               
Walter Siegmund