Swifts Across This Land
L. Ward Abel

Swifts across this land:

lagging spurts,
shadows lazy from lack of light.
On silent wind
unsure of the ground's direction
from above this valley,
they accent the "x" in anxiety
as a bull's eye
where gossamers divide
and ignore
all watchers.

Wings don't find 
for the sole purpose
of being observed;
they seek riverbottoms,
they gather 
like yesterday's rain
in our eyes,
they are more than
that become one 
with the stillness
they violate,

they have a reason.

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