(Angels and swallows at Easter)

The morning split
the sun
from the night
cooling air
blew in the light
My open door
my rooms still hollow
were pierced at once
by a young flying swallow
She crossed the kitchen
abreast the window
banged her head
against the sun
I ripped the door
opened wide
she raised her head
and returned outside.

Photo of swallow in Porto (Dr. T.P. Wilkinson)

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..