Summer flight

The swallows and swifts weave above us, chasing flies and potential mates. Every year they arrive like clockwork, riding the slipstream from north Africa to grace our skies with their delightful whistling songs. Only humans have made migration illegal, condemning undesirables to dank gaols, to be returned by force to barren lands of suffocating heat and scarcity. Modern man has forgotten his history, trekking once from the Indus plains and Caucus mountains into the fertile crescent and beyond. For millennia we were like the birds, free to roam. But modern man has restrained himself, limiting his potential. Modern man thinks nothing of the swallows and swifts that descend year after year without fail.

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