A Swift Awakening
Most days I walk the field path
To the ancient village church.
My duty to secure the
Doors. This evening, copious
Droplets fall to my dismay.
A dark shroud falls about me,
My ramble now a chore. Eyes
Downcast upon the stony
Ground. The heavy door upon
An aching hinge I shut, then
Turn about to face the hill.
The skies remain cloudy. But
My eyes uplifted and my
Heart, as swifts scream around the
Tower delighting in their
Joy of life through the still air.
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