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Fluttering
Wind for days now, buckets of it,
Sloshed from the mopwater southeast,
Seawaves grey with it.
Cattle shelter from the beach paddock gales,
Leaving swallows on the fence barbed wires, leaning into it
Like swimmers before races on the dive blocks teetering,
Overbalanced they fall into the wind,
Slicing their thin lives through gyroscopic air.
But one,
One swallow's falling,
Flying and then falling,
Quickening in the tight-breathed wind, and then ...
From a distance it hangs suspended between the wires.
Close up I see, a filament of cow's tail around its neck, is hanging it.
I make my poem though no one is listening
Raised on silk wings in the grey wind fluttering
Like the heart of a small bird, rescued,
Fluttering, its delicate pulse through my hand.
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