On opening the shutters to the shoaling of swallows

From the red of now to the blue of eternity,
swallows fly, white breasted,
with the scent of meadows in their wings,

skimming the green in the mist of morning,
they are there at the rising of the sun,
the rising of gnat-flight,

and I doubt they ever wonder
if the dawn will come, or sleep in fear
that the night will never end.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

11 thoughts on “On opening the shutters to the shoaling of swallows”

  1. This is beautiful–I love the image it creates in my mind, and the image you used is perfect.
    “white breasted,
    with the scent of meadows in their wings,” 💙

    1. They concentrate so hard on what they’re doing. Some are on the alert all the time, others, like the swallows don’t seem to notice anything but tiny insects.

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