They say that, once fledged
young swifts will not land.
Airborne for two years
they sleep among the stars
alternately switching off
separate halves of their brain
enough to find some rest
yet always half-aware.
That’s nothing.
I did this for a decade
grew sabred wings
reached dizzying heights
crossed continents at will
covered half the globe.
Each day I held the sky inside.
At night I flew by dreaming.
Published by colinhopkirk
Poet, writer, artist. Writing and performing in England, publishing anywhere. Member of Hexameter performing poets. Workshops, projects, cross-arts collaborations.
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Colin Hopkirk Poetry 