by Patrick Howse29 May 2017
Swifts weave in dogfights
With their projected shades,
Flitting between hop-poles
And crossing Maytime fields.
A dark background shadow
Defines a lasting scar,
A wound acknowledged,
Not allowed to fester or corrupt.
Here the poppies
And the cornflowers
Entwine with wild orchids
In the soft meadows.