Wednesday, 1 April 2009

Thrice She Turned ...

This poem is based on an experience I had last year when I was walking down the street and a swift flew down and three times flew around me in a perfect circle then flew away again into the sky.

Within a few days the swifts had left for Africa on their annual migration.

Thrice She Turned.

Thrice in flight she formed a perfect circle,
Scything anti-clockwise, swiftly turning,
Her wingtips whispered upon the wind,
Beating gravity at its own game, rejoicing,
As she bound us both within a mystery,
I felt our souls meet in perfect union,
As an ancient oath, timeless in its bond,
A baptism of sorts, sacred in its simplicity,
Until she shivered then winged away,
And as she departed, the shadows came.

As the soul is gifted by god to the flesh,
To reap the harvest of sublime sensation,
For her the roaring sky and clods of cloud ,
Are more than just page bound words,
They are the very breath and beat of her being,
And yet in the midst of such exultation,
At the very moment of her escaping,
She paused to cast a spell upon a man,
Whose limbs of clay and mired drag,
Were pitiful before the flutters of her beauty.

In her eyes I beheld something eternal,
When she caught me in her gaze, as a goddess,
Would gaze down upon a mere mortal,
I knew then the sacred connection,
That she was so much more than I,
Wise beyond all words, holy as hope,
For she had seen the true face of god,
Lit with celestial fire, blinding bright,
Fanning high above the shining blue,
Then flew to earth, sighing with his love.

At last she returns, a distant speck descending,
With the sun in her soul, bestows her blessings,
The earth blooms anew in verdant fruition,
As she banishes frosts and winters white bane,
For the world still works, the magic remains,
The flocks that left last year now return,
With my eyes on the sky I seek her curves,
As she tumbles in space, a rapturous reprise,
The ceremonies begin, for now summer arrives.

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