Speed
I have seen the swallows spin
Above the bell tower,
Quick feathers gathering air.
If an arrow could think
These are the handsome moves
It would choose for itself.
In Florence, the swallow
Is a swirl of pigment,
A blurred hunger under
Dappled light.
I am big and chunky,
I am dressed incorrectly,
And have yet to think
At the speed of the world.
—Cornelius Eady
—found in Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry (2009)
—originally published in The New Bread Loaf Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry (1999)