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.
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