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Greg McVerry

Do histories
    relish in future's
unwoven strings
as tomorrow
comes encroaching on
today letting
   time unfold
on wings of a Clay
Colored Sparrow taking
    first flight
New life nestled against
shrubs needling our soul

Every year sparrows seek
   the trees for a first, second
third chance at destiny

Today, nest is bare,
pale grey birds, streak crown
tucked, yet unveiled,

In our tomorrow's
history I hear your
A shanty garbled from
a perch lamenting
today, nevermore
each note carrying
the weight of tomorrow


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