Sunday, 16 August 2009
The White Swallow
She flits awing as a whisper of divinity,
In silent raptures upon infinite sky,
Sacred in the vision, summers epiphany,
As a snowflake awhirl in my eyes.
Oh so delicate she descends, then thrilling,
A pilgrim upon sunbeams to heaven,
Graceful as a ghost, into the soft streaming,
Holy sepulchres of cooling ermine.
She feathers and flatters the sighing sun,
Enticing eternity to reveal its secret,
Her wings scything free as a rebel hellion,
Solitary wandering, forever migrant.
So soon she drifts from view, yet remains,
Forever mythic in the memory,
Piping to the sun, she slipped slowly away,
To where angels make their aeries.