Sparrows’
twigs whisker between beaks
funneling to a robust belly-
song inflating in your guts
each millisecond you hold
unable to cantillate

the act of building
something for
purpose plunked in the tips of branches
where Wooly Bear caterpillars
stroll vertical
unable to see beyond the oak limb.  

This is Evelyn Green’s land
tucked from fence to wide bend
within and without the town
an index finger length from
limestone boulders
used to scale the barbed -

jagged edges of boundary
keeping the kept, to
pluck the ewes from cages
eyes wide and soft
sparkling
in the procession of sheers.
Mid-Morning in Alden
By Felicia Zamora
Contributor's Bio
Felicia Zamora is originally from the Midwest, attended Iowa State University and later found a home in
Colorado . She currently works as an academic advisor in the College of Business and is a Master of Fine Arts
student in creative writing, both at Colorado State University . When not at work or in classes, Felicia spends
time with her partner, Chris, and two Chow-mixes, Howser and Levine. Other published works may be found in
Academic Advising Today, Poetrybay, Ruminate, Matter, The Great Ecstatic Reporter, and Walt’s Corner.  
The Honey Land Review
Fall 2008
Volume 1, Issue 1
Photo By Lilea Duran
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