Swallows Framed On An Evening Sky

Swallows framed on an evening sky Thatch roofs singing a lullaby Children's eyes set catch the stars Old folk tales for tomorrow's scars It was all there then And perhaps is happening there again The village around the log fire seated Children in old ring games repeated Since the first wattle hut With lime-daubed stone gut This is my Knoxwood, my memory The page printed with the tapestry Twittering like swallows in the air Lamenting my exile and my despair.