The World At Two Miles An Hour
On an August afternoon
mowing a large patch of grass,
all around me barn swallows
are swooping, diving, snap rolling,
feasting on insects stirred up
by my mower.
As I pass one sitting
on the top wire of our fence,
our blue eyes meet
in mutual admiration.
Copyright © Don Groves | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment