Swifts of Summer

[Under development: 1 June 2005]

Suddenly a shrilling, and scimitars silhouetted
swoop and plummet out of the high air:
flittering, fluttering, darting thither,
joshing playfully, now cutting graceful curves.

You have come to build a shelter, to mate, lay eggs,
to nurture chicks, and feed your young on insects
hunted a hundred feet above my grey-tiled roof
still damp with cool summer Sunday rain.

You have crossed furnaces of arid rock,
and yellow sand imprinted by the plod of camels,
blown sand scuffed by tyre-tracks of sidewinder snakes,
dry sand shuffled by the scuttle of scorpions.

You have crossed plains marched over by elephants,
where lions stalk zebra amongst the baobab trees;
risked needle-taloned eagles in the frozen mountains;
and wave-skimmed the salt-sparkled restless seas.

And now your shrill cries and swift flight
quicken caught breath and inspire faith:
I believe I could walk joyfully over the world
and make my pilgrimage to your other home.

The promise of summer come to England,
you arrived with African dust on your wings.
Departing, you leave behind ice and gales:
storm-ripped winter with its dashed hopes.

p.g.h@btinternet.com

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Peter Hughes: Introduction