A Flight of Love

the swallows on deftly dipped wing sews together the cloud as with shrill thrill they sing of lands left behind a funeral shroud as they rise up on air that dispels a season’s last doubt but they fly to what and they fly to where? towards hope and family and love, away from despair and down under eaves the burbling dove cuddles warmly in a soft feathered nest looking up high – looking above at the swallows flight – flight at its best whilst it fills the hungry upturned beaks loved and protected, warm and blessed and the pierced cloud then happily leaks its tears on the face of the earths’ bone-dry cheeks