Two Barn Swallows

Two barn swallows
sat silent on a clothesline.
Sworn silence, I proposed,
playing a game that those
birds were yourself and myself.
They gazed, stoically I thought,
at the herds on the so much green
grazing, and the gray-blue
morning sky beyond.
Then they dove up off,
Wings winnow, or span
like a glider, when a favorable
wind catches their flight.
But what, or who, was the guider of that
instant, when some slight
change, intangible immediacy,
signaled their departure? . . .


Give me a sign, subtle yet distinct
–that as I run, I may read,
and as I read, discern–
of how yours and mine are kindly linked
beyond expediency,
beyond the range of the archer.
For I have still so much to heed.
Still, still so much to learn.

Will Soll

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