September
Swallows
September,
swallows
suddenly in a frenzy
as though too long furled,
their true selves
must out;
fly from the wires
like crochets escaping staves;
hone their aeronautics ‒
wheel, sweep and swoop ‒
for tomorrow
they must swap wires
for lines of longitude
as though they were scored
down the centre of their brains;
be pulled south
as surely as iron filings
must fly to the poles.
