September 13th 2011
Swifts are dashing into the wind the wild west wind and in streams of sun;
they cry as they fly ‘goodbye goodbye’; this our last day; see you next May’
and gulls and geese are drying their feathers sedately patching the green of the grass and they watch the swifts in their whirl and whisk
and they sigh and nod and continue to stand and stalk and stake their claims to the park;
red leaves for me the wind and the sun now here now gone
October 13th 2011
Swifts have flown over the hill and far away;
sunlight tries to stay strong and is weaker each day
for as the earth turned at the equinox I too was reversed
and now walk like a tiger, step by stealth, breathing in and out
Tessa Ransford
