Overcome
by strange remorse
the sun-dyed pomp
of plaintive hursts
immerse
my soul in colour
Saint Lawrence
sheds his vehement tears
the axis
of the year is shifted,
watched our Swifts
on their way out
the charging weeks
are done.
First stanza a forethought
Although the departure saddens, it heralds change-Autumn and leaf-turn. the second inbound avian wave- waders, wildfowl, thrushes- the raptors descend from the highlands to the marshes.
The Tears of St Lawrence- colloquialism for Perseids- meteors associated with Swift-Tuttle debris mid August
Swifts seem to mass over the bay at this time "last-in -first-out migrants" could the Perseids be the celestial trigger for their gathering, a seasonal clock-tick to move them on?
Their numbers fly quietly, this time, a contrast to the scything charges that screamed about the old town chimneys as the young birds knew their wings
"Hurst"- Wooded hill/Woodland
"Swift"- "Apus Apus"- "Footless"