Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing?by Steven L. Peck

The old woman says funny things
as we pass through the glassy towers

I like walking with her to hear the stories
she tells The daymoon is bright and near full

and she has me describe the lost gods’
houses They glow softly white and cool

we know they are haunted so we duck
and pass quickly The woman is the only one

not afraid but she hurries too She
says she could see as well as I can when

she was young Not now I think
Jaob would leave her because she uses

up water but she is good at catching sparrows
not afraid of their wings When she cooks them

she always says Are not two sparrows sold
for a farthing? I ask her What is a farthing?

She only smiles but will not say Maybe
she doesn’t know She tells me that once

when she was a little girl some of the
gods’ houses were filled with firebricks

and they did not burn them but used
them to remember stories I like stories

I do but she believes the firebricks have
stories and the firebrick she carries and will

not let us burn she uses to tell us stories
in the night We do not understand them

but they bring us some comfort in the
bright heat of the night We walk across

a metal bridge and Jaob looks far down
the sandy trail under the bridge He is good

at finding water and on the other side
of the bridge we go down to the sandy way

and start to walk The walking is hard
because our feet sink in the sand Slow

going The old woman works hard to keep
up Her breath gets fast but she does not leave

When night comes she would die without
us The places Jaob says to dig are wise and we

almost always find water He is wise and old
too but not as old as the white-haired woman

He does not tell stories and does not
believe the ones the old woman tells and

says they are lies But she can catch sparrows
So she gets to stay The moon had just set when

Jaob told us to dig We all do We dig fast
because the sky is starting to lighten and night

will soon be on us and if we don’t find
a place soon the sun of the night will come

The houses of the gods are still all around us
Jaob is good at finding ways under too He is wise

We find water and fill up our plastic jugs
We all must carry two because it is Jaob’s rules

and even the old woman who finds it hard
carries the same share of water Jaob leads us

under even though this place is new he
knows how to find under better than anyone

and we go beneath the houses of the gods
we are not afraid because the ghosts stay above

We go under just in time In every gathering
of the god’s ruins there is always an under left

for us I think The old woman says she knew
the gods and they were not gods Jaob says that

is a lie I don’t tell him that I kind of want to
believe the old woman She is never afraid of

ghosts Jaob says she is a fool I don’t think so
We go deep into the under as the night’s heat follows

us down We follow the cool At last I help
build a fire We want coals in case the old woman

finds sparrows She leaves She goes alone I
asked her why and she said If I show you how

to find sparrows then you won’t need me
So she goes alone Perhaps she uses farthings

to find them We use firebricks and a piece of wood
Luckisal found yesterday under a god-car wood large around

as a thigh When the fire is going I hope hard
that the old woman finds sparrows Not just because

I’m hungry but because I know Jaob will be mad
and might leave her if she doesn’t The wood and firebricks

would be wasted He does not like her I think he
hates the lies she tells about when she was little They

make me less afraid of ghosts like she
is not afraid I am glad when she returns She

has six sparrows They come to the under
when the night-sun rises You can see the bones in

their wings Their furry heads and flat noses
are strange and their little feet grasp your finger

as they flap their naked wings There is one sparrow
with a baby hanging on tight in the soft fur of its belly

Jaob claims that baby sparrow as his dinner
He smiles at the old woman and I am glad We

kill them and cook them over the coals Their
wings are crispy and the meat sweet We are all

in a good mood even Jaob He says See if there is
a story in your firebrick old woman She pulls it out the

bag which is always with her It usually hurts
her eyes and her head when she finds the story

The nightsun is so bright there is a bright white
patch on the hard grey floor finding its way to the

under She opens the firebrick and stares
at it awhile while we wait She finds a story

in her firebrick and speaks about a tree
that a god called Lord of the Vineyard tries

to save for something He digs about it
Jaob laughs Why would a god dig about

a tree? Dry as bones they are He should
collect the wood There is no water under a

tree Old woman you make me laugh With
that he goes to a corner to sleep until the night

is over and the sun goes down so
we can leave the under and walk again

and begin again our looking for what the
heat does not destroy or the nightsun dries up

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Steven L. Peck is an ecology professor at BYU and a fellow of the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship. He has published over 50 scientific articles in evolutionary ecology and the philosophy of biology. He has also published books on science and faith like Evolving Faith and Science the Key to Theology. He has also published four literary novels, including, A Short Stay in Hell, published by Strange Violin Editions; the magical realism novel, The Scholar of Moab, published by Torrey House Press—an AML (Association of Mormon Letters) novel award winner and Montaigne Medal Finalist; and the AML novel award winner, Gilda Trillim, Shepherdess of Rats. His climate change fiction, King Leere Goatherd of the La Sals, published by BCC Press, was a semi-finalist for the Black Lawrence Press Big Moose Prize, short-listed for the Hoffer Award, and received a starred review from Publishers Weekly. He also won the AML short story award for “Two-Dog Dose” published in Dialogue. In addition, he has published many short stories and has two collections of short stories, Wandering Realities by Zarahemla Press, and one self-published collection, Tales of Pleasant Grove.