Swallows

Don't I remember? Yes, I do; but that
was only last year. There won't be a string
of thoughts by which to know this one. I did
not see the swallows fly, although they must

have lighted on the wire, one day in spring,
and paused a while, and found their wonted eaves
to build and nest and stay the summer, nor
did I observe them swooping down before

approaching rain to catch the frightened flies
in mouthfuls for their nestlings. In the grim
grey curtains they would stay behind and when
the sun was out they'd soar away like dreams

not yet deceived. Still, in my mind I stand
and watch their flight take off and head down south
reflected in the lake and hear their shrill
goodbyes until they fade beyond the hill.