skating
warm aether
the swifts return
no longer fouled
by trailing nets
of rain, black scythes
harvest the blue
meniscus that teeters
like a dinner plate
between crossed eyes
right on the nose
stuff, these feats
of gyroscopic skill
so hard to see
as other than joy
when they shrill wild
thrilling in roll and shoal
seething in knots
suddenly falling
in sequence
like a dropped chain
as a hobby’s silhouette
sharks over, too quick
to rake the shallows
from which they spiral
into smaller gyres
rising
and rising
to rest
in falling.
Andy Barritt, East Midlands, UK
