February rain . . .
yet still the sparrows playing
beneath a parked car

 

 

Published by

Wally Swist

Wally Swist's books include Huang Po and the Dimensions of Love(Southern Illinois University Press, 2012), The Daodejing: A New Interpretation, with David Breeden and Steven Schroeder (Lamar University Literary Press, 2015), Candling the Eggs (Shanti Arts, LLC, 2017), The Map of Eternity (Shanti Arts, LLC, 2018), and Singing for Nothing: Selected Nonfiction as Literary Memoir (The Operating System, 2018). His poems and prose have appeared in The American Book Review, Anchor: Where Spirituality and Social Justice Meet, Appalachia, Arts: The Arts in Theological and Religious Studies, Commonweal, North American Review, and The Woven Tale Press.

2 thoughts on “”

  1. .
    February rain . . .
    yet still the sparrows playing
    beneath a parked car

    —WALLY SWIST
    .
    .
    Sparrows are such playful creatures. I remember as a child when we had huge gangs of sparrows, but less so now.

    I was overjoyed to own a house full of sparrows in the eaves. But less so when we lost one:

    dead sparrow
    how light the evening
    comes to a close

    Alan Summers
    Haiku Canada Review, vol. 11, no. 2, (October 2017) ed. LeRoy Gorman

    .

    But back to a joyful note:

    summer wind
    a sparrow re-rights itself
    at the peanut cage

    Alan Summers
    Snapshots 10 (2004)
    .
    .

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