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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Visitations from Magical Birds


 

The artists sought theirs in imagination,

no mean place, tracked tiny footprints

over snow until steps left off in flight.

 

Mine, long-tailed, waited in my backyard,

a big, golden, ruby red and glossy teal

creature under the bird feeder,

 

an astonishing fairytale gift. Neighbor boys

tried to dog cage the creature in safety

from overnight cats and I took a twilit photo,

 

the miracle turned into smudge.

It disappeared like all dreams, lifted

its bulk over the fence into dense foliage.

 

Nothing ever came of the visitation.

I found none so exotic in book nor tangled

into webbed site, no loss ever reported.

 

More peacock. More brilliant. More gift.

All our best dreams skitter off and with luck

we follow the footprints, believing.


                                            -Carol Hamilton

 

 


 

The things I didn’t notice because I was looking at you:

 


 

The fuzzed fronts of peaches

that line up plump and rose-touched,

how the flesh gives to fingertips.

The heavy shadows

of the open warehouse

where the flowers clump by colors,

their airtight plastic pots,

blossoms patchworking space,

cold concrete underfoot.

The scuffed leather loafers

the fruit-stand lady wears

as she shows us fresh honey,

amber in a glass jar

with pecans swimming

like petrified insects.

It would take forever

to list all I missed,

all I forgot to tell you.


          -Carol Hamilton