Swiftscape

Swifts dive and screech
flying low behind the trees
chasing gnats in the warm air.
 
Only a wisp of moon
an innuendo in the clear blue sky
as their silhouettes rise and swoop.
 
They dart away down streets
like rowdy bikers
revelling in each twist and turn
 
to reappear screaming
on scimitar wings
cutting black arcs across the sky.
 
As swifts outfly the shadows
jasmine fills the air
a blackbird sings, safe in the cherry tree.
 
Hushed, they wheel and spiral higher
gliding sky-skaters tracing patterns
round the moon.
 
I gaze until their soaring shapes
merge into the soft mid-summer night
and darkness breaks the spell.
 

Frances White

in collection Swiftscape, 2016, The Seventh Quarry Press,
ISBN 978-0-9935326-0-3;
first published in Away With Words an anthology of poetry
(Aeronwy Thomas, Beryl Myers, Annie Taylor, Frances White), 2007,
Poetry Monthly Press, ISBN 978-1-906357-01-6