by Beth Fox
She’s black, she’s white—
she’s a white-throated swift
moving so quickly I barely see
the male on her back as
she barrels toward earth
in a courtship spin—
swerving at the point
of impact, then
hurtling upward
again to become
a speck in the sky.
(Black and white,
dark and light—)
The nest—
a cup of moss and twigs
glued to the side of a sheer cliff
with saliva.
(I was once convinced
that dark news
was really light—)
Fifty trips a day to care for chicks,
feeding them balls of insects… instincts
as true as their flight.
Before dark times, I could tell
black from white… I will again, when
I can see through these reddened eyes…
Will I/will we turn back in time
to see
the brilliant blue sky?
A lover of the outdoors, Beth Fox was a finalist in four New England poetry contests and is widely published in New England. She helped seniors publish their work in an anthology, Other Voices, Other Lives. Her chapbook Reaching for the Nightingale is available at Finishing Line Press. Beth lives in Wolfeboro, NH.
she’s a white-throated swift
moving so quickly I barely see
the male on her back as
she barrels toward earth
in a courtship spin—
swerving at the point
of impact, then
hurtling upward
again to become
a speck in the sky.
(Black and white,
dark and light—)
The nest—
a cup of moss and twigs
glued to the side of a sheer cliff
with saliva.
(I was once convinced
that dark news
was really light—)
Fifty trips a day to care for chicks,
feeding them balls of insects… instincts
as true as their flight.
Before dark times, I could tell
black from white… I will again, when
I can see through these reddened eyes…
Will I/will we turn back in time
to see
the brilliant blue sky?
A lover of the outdoors, Beth Fox was a finalist in four New England poetry contests and is widely published in New England. She helped seniors publish their work in an anthology, Other Voices, Other Lives. Her chapbook Reaching for the Nightingale is available at Finishing Line Press. Beth lives in Wolfeboro, NH.