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This Morning Outsideby Diane PorterApril 16, 2014 The last mile to my house is gravel. Its name, a longish number and the appellation Boulevard, seems incongruous. I think of it as Sparrow Road, for the changing cast of birds who chorus from the fences at field edge. Like this song sparrow who cautiously paused his singing to watch me pass this morning.
—Diane Porter
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