When swallows gather in groups

it’s called a mummeration.

As one they ripple in waves

turning the sky to ocean

their tiny dark bodies


Fleck of black on blue

morphing into a single rush

of soaring bodies

scooping themselves

into glorious arcs

and spirals.

When they are gone

the sky is empty

and alone.

Clouds litter like styrofoam cups


when the crowds leaves

to stumble home.

All is left

is the wait

for seasons to change.

Daily Prompt: Congregate


Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.