# Coven

Author: harpier
Tags: Bird, Halloween, Poem, Poetry

Miss the swallows

The sun is still high, or it sets  
  
But I find your black and white feathers the same.  
  
Gathered in flocks you call and play  
  
And I can’t help but think of you  
  
As a witch’s coven,  
  
Even as you are delightful and good.  
  
Irony is that you covens gather in the spring,  
  
And in this Autumn I miss you.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/XnrpEOPe