A Swallow´s single bow unveils the light
descends into a multitude of dew
as drops of chirps defy remains of night
a butterfly´s attaire signifies its truth.

Fibric threads then ´scribe it all on fabric
webs, follow suit, trail, into those deeper wells
trickle, well beyond, straight through these cubic
thoughts, as waters sparkle light, blooms might tell.

Things like this I ponder on as I stroll
on meadows green, then contemplate my place
within this sphere, define my human role,
unique, yet twined, into this pulsing grace.

A farmer trails a tribute wih a plow
in gratitude of a Swallow´s single bow.