For the 9th day of Paul’s challenge.

Swift and wood pigeon

On the telephone wire, swift twitters quietly,
eyes never still, watching the flight of insects,
specks of food floating by, millions thick as pollen.

Pigeon coos gently, the rumble in the throat
a matronly reassurance addressed at no one in particular,
her companion, the world below.

Hunger triggers, impatience, a longing in the wings,
and swift launches slicing the air, gaping,
swallowing, scything through the insect-pollen
with high-pitched shrieks of joy.

Pigeon rumbles, unruffled, then ruffles,
preens, one eye on a stalk of ripe wheat going nowhere,
rooted fast, toasting a little more in each minute of sun.

Swift returns, hunger momentarily sated,
folds long sharp wings, tail feathers,

while pigeon launches, rising high then folding wings,
gliding on air-cushioned billows, effortless,
energy-efficient, dropping with the earth’s pull,
to land firm and solid where the wheat grows.

Swift pirouettes…