The Wiltshire Air Ambulance, a Sonnet
What bird is this, I ask the man, that flies
The silken skies with shining knives for wings
We watch it slice the light above The Vize
And swoop and rise, and circle as it sings
Its melancholy song. I see him smile
A bird that beats the sparrows to the crack
Of dawn, he says. We stand a little while
I blink. It flies to Bristol, and flies back
He smiles again, and suddenly a tear
Appears to dance a trickle down his face
The bird has flown a sickly chick, my dear
To half a chance, and half a hope of grace
It flew me once. I look at him. Flew you?
Yes, me, he said. And someone else I knew
© Gail Foster 21st January 2018
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2018
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