By Sophie West
I didn’t see them all at once, bright sun
In my eyes as I glanced at the black blots
Dancing around each other near the bridge
By the river—swallows, blithe and undone.
Nearby, their hallowed holes loom like brown knots,
Homes built on the edge of anything; rich
With hope, it’s no wonder they swoop and run,
Holler and wallow, with mouthfuls of mud spots.
I knew inside that we were both trying
The same thing—I was close to the edge too.
But the next day, I found an empty sky
And fragments of shells sown with river-dew.
Just yesterday, the air had been sighing
With relief, but hope can be subdued.
Sophie West is a junior at BYU majoring in English with a minor in Global Women’s Studies.
