Small Forever
by Ann Falcone Shalaski


Even now
smell of dew
outside the window
where I once lived,
forgetting the simplest
of things - people don't
mate for life, like seasons,
they change.

It was there all along,
clump of berries
in the next yard,
one small brown sparrow
curved, feasting
on bitter seeds -
once more,
dew on a leaf.






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