A Memory

 

I have a memory:

two lovers lying in a meadow,

a cosmos of May flowers;

their laughter swishing them

round and around

a bee-buzzing ecstatic day.

                            High up swallows tracing circles,

                            lavish displays

                            of their mastery of the air;

                            they watch with fingers entwined;

                            swallows too,

                            magnificent in their flying.