Swallows

Swallows dip into the pond, their feathers flying. My young man has left me to return to his home; I see him in the distance, too far away to see me cry. Swallows fly back and forth without effort. I stand and watch my young man go. Everything is weighted down so I can hardly move. I’ve had good teachers; I’ve been a good student. I know how to respect others and care for the poor. What good does that do me now?