There’ll come a day when I must
die;
you blue-black swallows scythe the
air,
with summer falling from the sky.
You zip and zoom and hurtle by,
you flick quick wings against my
hair;
there’ll come a day when I must
die.
Your bubbling praises wild and
high
set sunlit laughter everywhere,
with summer falling from the sky.
You’ll soon be gone and so will I,
each harvest home, each burned
field bare;
there’ll come a day when I must
die.
Dark angels, unknown seas run
high,
run cold as death; have you no
care
with summer falling from the sky?
Goodbye, my loves, goodbye,
goodbye,
I’ll hold you in a web of prayer;
there’ll come a day when I must
die,
with summer falling from the sky.
(June,
1988)
