Poem: The Swift

A blur of russet wings, a flash of light,
The swift, a feathered dancer, takes to flight.
Across the emerald stage, a joyful sweep,
It dips and dives, where summer breezes creep.

Through golden stalks of wheat it weaves and swoops,
A living brushstroke on a verdant loop.
The sun-kissed field, a canvas vast and bright,
Reflects the swift’s own symphony of flight.