Swallow

by Earl Livings

It can’t be all
hunting on the wing,

those sudden swerves,
open beak scooping insects.

There’s beat glide beat glide
beat rise and dip into

swoop barrel roll
low fast skimming

above quivering green
above rain pools splintered

with sunlight into
bank left bank right

tower skyward in spirals
lacing the air into

dive loop rise rise
into swoops into

free-flowing dips
flips and twists into

jinking this way that
skimming again into

darting fast turns
and switchbacks into

this verve of black moon wings
and flicking forked tail

grey underbody gleaming
with sun and speed

and wingtips winnowing
songlines of delight

into silence