Visitors

by Yvonne Gray

You edged
through darkness, tracing
the lines of longitude north.

The engine droned
and wing lights pulsed
as you followed the path

of the swallow
the little red–jewelled traveller
which came each year

before the rainy season
skimming the lake, darting
along the willow–lined shore.

Your heart constricted
when you saw the ring
clasped to its fragile leg.

Tsoka, tsoka, bad luck!
the children would shriek
clutching their stones.

Trembling
in the simmerdim
of wind–swept islands

where fishermen
still fear to turn
a boat widdershins

you ring a swallow for yourself
open your hands
and cast it free.

glossary
Simmerdim:  the twilight hours around midnight
in June and July in the Northern Isles (Orcadian / Shetlandic).
Widdershins:  anti–clockwise (Scots).