why sad, young swallow
sloping playground, driving wind, downwind
your brothers fly far across field.
why sad, little swallow
sitting lonely on a branch in the the school yard
as downy skies accumulate overhead
sad swallow, fly strong
across field and fence; the wind picks up
your wings, just to drop you
for joy to the grass; with a cry
you spin upward, skyward, darting through turbulence,
denying the first drops of rain.