Suddenly, some balance somewhere
Shifted.
The stilling air of afternoon
has filled with swarms of gnats
And the swifts, gone for so long
Diving now and climbing
swooping in their zigzag flight
Appeared as from a secret niche
Hidden in some silent fold
In time and space
Called by a faint note, unheard
To eat their fill and then return
How quickly the balance scale can tip
And the unexpected be what is.
Soon neither swarming gnats nor swooping birds
Are seen
And the empty air of afternoon
Has changed its light
To suit the movement
Of the clouds
And the rhythm of the stream.
