(London, the 4th of June, 2012)
I watch swallows
Flitting past, diving low
My eye shutters to slow
And break
The movement
Folding unfolding p
Penknives
They disappear
Under the roof
Of my grandfather’s shed
Out of reach
I hear
The begging of hungry chicks
Well tucked away in dried mud nests
Relentless on hot summer afternoons
Does their mother think them pests?
Grapes ripen
The great migration beckons
One fallen mignon
Wide gaping yellow beak
Wrestles inept against the dust
A cavity of hunger, surviving streak
I pray
Tatal nostru, care esti in ceruri
Save this chick
My grandmother
High priestess of the burning matchstick
Extinguished in water
Does not pray,
For prayer is a balm to soothe
A child’s unrest
Birds feather, follow the heat, or die
In God they rest
No qualms,
No questions
And no quest
