One Evening

Lie down flat.

Swallows up-lit skim not quite over me, I am not on any of their desire lines. Sometimes I see the red.

Criss-crossing they are back drop to their prey: darting black dots of insects.  Specks of floating dust on my eyeballs move slower.

I curl up and into this me-shaped grass bed. Perpendicular blades sway. Sky there.

swallows in the evening

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