They went away, the sad times.
It wasn't I who turned them out of doors,
but another.
The swifts have returned. They've dropped
their burden of long journeys. With what joy
they scream over the rooftops.
Pour the coffee. Sit by the fire
that says home. Tomorrow, we'll welcome
all the tomorrows there are to be.
Do you hear the swifts? They tie together
the bright light. They nest
in secret places.