A flock of swifts,

Dazzling, turning, beguiling

Pass barely inches from my being,

And take me by surprise.

 

I lose myself.

And dazzling, turning, beguiling, I fly.

 

The wind in the trees,

Pulsing, flowing, churning,

Captures me,

Shares its wonders,

And motionless I dance.

 

The due in the grass.

Reflects, refracts, divides,

And turns me back upon myself.

 

A reflection of a reflection,

I am.

 

Later, struck by thoughts of you,

I fall to the ground and weep.