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This morning apple blossom, scattered by

the softest of winds, showered me like

confetti and, by chance, I looked up

into a deep, deep cobalt sky and there

they were – one, two then a third and fourth –

arriving perennially at this time

here each May. Monogamous, returning

to the same nests until they die, each

generation nesting in the empty nests –

each generation now, as it returns yearly

from the tropics, finding more and more nests

gone as buildings are renovated

and new ones built sealed as airless boxes.

Aerobatic harbingers of summer

then autumn, once flocking our suburban sky,

are becoming presagers of dearth.




© Copyright David Selzer
3 Responses
  • Caroline Reeves
    May 26, 2014

    Your posting reminded me that, while you were on holiday, the swifts arrived in Guildford and I immediately thought of you, and when the three of us were in Palma and the swifts were so very swift as we watched from the balcony as they swooped around the rooftops at our eye level!

  • John Huddart
    June 21, 2014

    This year a swift [s] has taken refuge in our shed, with the bins. Usually you duck when entering, as they always streak past. But does your poem mean this will now go on forever? Buzzed and privileged at the same time!

    • David Selzer
      June 22, 2014

      Yes, forever – unless you ‘improve’ the shed or demolish it.

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