The 7th of May and The Swift
They come to greet you for your birthday,
Though last year they
Were late.
The cloud ice-skaters, the boomerang sky-surfers,
The harpies screaming:
Delayed –
As you remembered
To breathe and find your footing.
As you turned Forty
And washed the After Birth
From your sad and guilty heart.
You had given birth to yourself,
Decided the present you most wanted
Was to be free.
And your keen eyes saw him before me,
Though I had waited
Agitated, for the sign.
But when I saw him -
Slicing the sky with deft joy
And mind-bending speed -
I knew that this renaissance
Was going to bring forth
The kind of beauty
That twists the stomach
Into a knot of alive
Smiling.
I have not been wrong.
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