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Helen Jenks

Sparrow Song

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Hum, little bird, the dryadic song of my youth,

 

that which pours out from tawny-crested throat

the haunting anthem of our mud-soaked, woodland roads.

 

Let tiny wings unfurl from narrow-tufted body

to soar on winds of rain-soaked draught,

 

seeking shelter from the deluge in boughs

of oak and elm, far above the weed-strewn paths.

 

Sing to me again, little one, the stories of the

thirst-quenched soil and chirping, chattering wood ––

 

I am very far away now,

and, in my years, I have forgotten them.

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Helen is a history student and poet based in Dublin, with a nervous disposition and a fondness for jumpers and other knitted things. She enjoys writing about the sublime, romantic and nostalgic –– poetry from life, in all its many forms. When not writing, you can find her swearing at Dublin's rude and rather irreverent seagulls, or hosting tea parties with her stuffed animals, who are all very polite and supportive of her work.

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