Verlie Burroughs is a west coast writer from Vancouver Island.
Summer went away,
hope it comes back soon, flowers
falling in the rain.
The last seeds planted
in the summer rain.
It is finished this morning
looks well built.
High up under the eaves.
A perfect little cup,
I've been observing nests this summer, starling, barn swallow, eagle, heron, and crow.
Midnight blue color of Swallow's wings.
O' what longing for alchemy is this?
Words tossed in sleep, as dreamed sing.
To impart upon the page a morning's miss.
The swallow cuts a path across the sky.
Blue on blue, in perfect ellipse,
a flutter of sweeping spirals,
the wanderers fly,
On journeys homeward
through skies of mist.
Ever on the wing, the Swallow is blessed
to gently light, and build a nest.
The stars were
and looked up a long, long while.
The night is bright darkness,
not a soul, not a whisper,
not a moon ~
only the vast sky full of stars
and the sea murmuring.
© 2018 Verlie Burroughs