This day now giving up its helpful sun
a brass band crossing mountains on parade.
A song of seconds only and to one
a cold reminder on the heavy blade
my crescent moon to swing and shine the splinters.
A muffled toll the passage through the wood
to wood beneath: a face of twenty winters.
And so I read the hours since we stood
near here as four and with our family things.
The rushing swifts make whispers in the thin
above they chase the clip of insect wings
and with an armful now I gather in.
In this my empire of one man I pay
allegiance at the failing of the day.
stanzapoet 
Stan I took myself to Laguna and remembered watching the insects sit on a log before the sun rose and then as the sun shone on their wings they flew arround untill the end of the day “The rushing swifts make whispers in the thin above they chase the clip of insect wings” so good to see the world like this again” and “within an armful now I gather in” all at rest and a family of 4 as a warm hearth. Beautifull imagery well done.
Hey thanks, I quite like this poem too. It was quite a long time in the making. Thanks for the feedback 🙂