Swifts, on a fine morning in May, flying this way, that way, sailing around at a great hight, perfectly happily. Then one leaps onto the back of another, grasps tightly and forgetting to fly they both sink down and down, in a great dying fall, fathom after fathom, until the female utters a loud, piercing cry.....
of ecstasy.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Swifts, on a fine morning in May, flying this way, that way, sailing around at a great hight, perfectly happily. Then one leaps onto the back of another, grasps tightly and forgetting to fly they both sink down and down, in a great dying fall, fathom after fathom, until the female utters a loud, piercing cry.....
of ecstasy.
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