Delight - Alec Jackson

The swifts are flying high today.
Is there something they know
that I do not?

They crest and dive; sharp 'chit chit' calls
dancing tidal riv'lets
of summer air.

Arcing, falling, skimming so low,
their forked tails racing past
and near miss me.

Barometers of soul and life,
inspiring maudlin songs
till the lights fade.

Yet delight croons through their bowed wings,
hearts lift and sing freely
o'er field and sea.

Alec Jackson