The Swift
It bursts upon dawn-stage
from half-cup nest tangle
of twigs grafted to brick
old cold chimney
trailing soot rocketing past nets
of ivy clutch of near-trees
suspended in half-light
from the final star
swoop sweep dive
singular aerial bolero
wing-stroke pause
stamps blue
with its pulse flawless
performance this is
how day breaks into
applause how to be
a survivor
3 thoughts on "The Swift"
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I love to watch the swifts fly. You capture their unique flight and my joy in watching them in this poem.
“aerial bolero” so lovely! The whole poem swoops and dives in beautiful language.
Gorgeous bursting, rocketing, pulsing poem!
Every word and phrase in this poem is so well-chosen.