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Poetry

03/07/2018

 

Swallows at Our House



Their wings glisten like salesmen’s shoes,
but unencumbered, itinerant swallows
have nothing to sell.

  No need to keep a hand on your wallet
when they come around.  In fact,
their bright song scatters coins

  that some of us disdain,
too proud to pick up a penny,
but others gather, eager as children.


By Don Thompson