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On one of the last days of summer, swallows coast the currents. Where a kite might fly…
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1 Articles
On one of the last days of summer, swallows coast the currents. Where a kite might fly…
Swallows skim the path, gone in a flash. Soon they’ll leave – towing the dreams of summer south, far from St Saviour’s Parish Church, set here above Greyabbey’s Gothic cloisters of ruined stone. Rooks caw-call the hours to roost. Light seeps a little. Tired leaves set for a fall. As our tilted world spins through the void on its sun circuit. Its angular balance enabling seasons. Too far and it’s chaos. On one of the last days of summer, swallows…
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