the fall of day
still chill
old dinner-plate grey clouds
flip and wiget of wings of the nesting bird in thatch
lisp of one higher in the air
the curling one
clipping and sighing, dancing and simpering, kettling, rambling, ticking, chucking,
mixing, delegating, jumping,
jittering around the valley
the edges mute up as light leaves
a silent swallow gently flippers across the sky
