Poem #16

Summer’s bolted,

flowered, gone to seed.

I graze the last bitter leaves

or sow a fall crop.


Swallows ranked in rows

forked tails due north

rolling out, replaced by starlings

massing for invasion.


Summer was a river then

flowing endlessly before us.

When did the channel

become so narrow?

Bank Swallow

Bank Swallow



Categories: Bird photos, postcard poems | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Post navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: