A tweet announces their arrival.
Then a fly past, with aerobatics,
exuberance, rejoice, speed, grace
and energy, even after that journey.
I have never seen swallows fly so fast,
and always a foot apart, along the road,
by our very faces, over the roof,
out of sight, reappearing in the instant,
through the arch, around the tall birch,
by the newly-fledged chestnut,
always, always, the same distance apart,
from everything and each other.
I could compare them to fighter jets
or flying saucers in SF films,
but that’s to do them injustice.
It was too soon to be a mating ritual,
revelling in the joy of being here
on this special day.
We are back to you,
travellers from our other home
here, in this world, we share with you.
The Blue Geranium
I saw it and its picture in the garden centre
on a cold January day and its signal
exploded inside my head.
“Look at me”, it said, “look at me”.
I will rise on a blue day in June,
I will send you messages in blue,
blue, blue, always blue.
I will be blue in the green of the garden,
blue in the shadows of the trees,
in blue, I will tumble over the rocks,
I will be blue with the birdsong,
blue in the gold of the sun.
I promise all this and
I will send you thoughts,
that will flow in gold
from the tip of your favourite pen.”
I took it home.
My wife looked at it once
and enquired nonchalantly,
“haven’t we one of those already”.
A fine day but nothing could be done,
the best of the tea filmed over.
much in the past to be feared.
a friendship was left at the kerb.
a small success left a taste in the mouth.
a prodigal poem refused to be written.
Kevin Griffin is from Kerry and has poems published in many magazines and journals such as TheSHOp, Crannog, Orbis, Salzburg Review, A New Ulster, Survision, Revival, Boyne Berries, Star*Line, etc. His first collection Holding Salamanders was published in 2019 by New Binary Press.