175. June 24th
The swallow swoops swiftly through the air,
Diving down and soaring upwards on his wings.
Nifty, he twists and turns sharp as a meandering brook,
Like a plane running around the sky.
Searching for flies, his favourite prey,
Forwards, Upwards, Onwards, Outwards.
Searching always in the air,
Searching diligently for some dinner.