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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



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