Natural treasures

Not arrows that fly towards the nesting of day
but swallows
on the wing as Summer fades,

I play with the imagery as each arrow moves
South and away from me

every point changes then to be changed back to..
when did you see such as this?

and the archer?
who can say,
who is it that plays with creation this way?

if I stop in my day
to watch on this fortune
that fritters away

does it leave me the poorer
for knowing?

© 2017, John Smallshaw.