as if to grace me
with their presence, the
golden eagles turn and
glide above me, soar
on the updraught, wings
outspread - I watch
their feathered fingers,
their coloured bodies,
as they glide round
over my garden as I sit

the swallows and the
swifts chatter and dive,
blow raspberries, swerve
and scythe, as if
they too bid me remember
there is life, remind me
to live

Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem