While I was drawing this one, I was thinking (unseasonably) of swallows gathering grasses for their nests and dreaming of the eggs they would hatch in Spring. What joy as they ascend to the sky!
The poet saw that and more. Check out Tom’s poem – it’s a medieval romance!
A knight’s pavilion in an open field:
swift swallows flit and turn above the bower
where a lady to her knight might yield
perhaps in thanks for rescue from a tower
or simply for the pleasure of the dance.
They move together under silken sheets
by the swallow’s call both are entranced
simmering in liquid summer heat
beholden to no master but the chance
of one true moment, lifting up the veil
and waking from their long romantic trance
as together into truth they sail
knowing there’s no ending to their tale.
image (c) 2017 Hilary Farmer
poem (c) 2017 TJ Radcliffe