I don’t really know what this means and at this point in the writing process, I don’t even remember what the trigger subject was: probably birds singing outside. If you get meaning from it, please comment below and let me know what it is. It can really be anything.

Swallows

Somewhere, at some time, there’s a swallow singing
In between the crowds of restless sympathizers, and
Apathizers: there’s a singer somewhere who doesn’t
Quite care what you do with your guns.

She flows in and out of currents under wings that
Have carried sermons over mountains and valleys
And through crevices in archetypes and cracks
In canyon walls that crumble under baking suns.

There was a space once that she circled and circled and —
A space once that she swam through one hundred
Times to filter one hundred kinds of memories through
The ways the currents spread her sermons.

Over heat waves and under the cool, they
Echoed one thousand times, or twenty-two million,
Until, careening skyward, cracks closed her beak
And someone else took up the call — someone’s.

Stay gold,
Sabrina Hayes