I Am a Swallow
When sunset bows amidst the hilltops,
My warble coos on fields;
And through the ever- glowing night
This womb of nest I keep,
Where flappers reel like tints of sky
A mix of white and cobalt -blue,
To guide oak trees from silhouettes
Against the rail of grass.
The seasons house me with warm grace,
Rich the buds growing soft
Adorning my emblazoned wings,
Etched across the cloudscape.
Yet, the flavor of autumn blows
Heralding distant flights;
Till wake of spring escorts me back
From old Capistrano.
Early Feb 2018 Premiere Contest:
For Brian Strand
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
