It must be a particular kind of grace, the way this wild morning a family of swallows
Is harvesting the cloudy air: harnessed to its wheels and pulleys, they harness
The blast to their own advantage, or stop on it for a second before letting its breath
Take them where it will, their small streamlined bodies abroad and at home
In its hugeness, their screams carried off so I can catch only the faintest trace
From where I stare out the kitchen window, wide awake to these tiny life bundles
In daily negotiation with the great unnamable force that lives in things, the way
They’re beyond complaint, too busy living to be bogged down or beaten down for long
By sudden swerves of weather; beyond even contentment; having only this instant
Quick knowledge the moment given them: and how to go on, making the most of it.
“It must be a particular kind of grace…”
copyright 2005 by Eamon Grennan
Reprinted from The Quick of It
with the permission of Graywolf Press, Saint Paul Minnesota
This was originally read on our May 5 podcast. Our kind thanks to Graywolf Press.
Please visit them online here.
Mr. Grennan’s page for this book on their site is here.