swift-blown

Updated: June 3, 2025

But winter and summer, save along through June, the sparrows, as evening falls, cut across the sky field on their way to the roost in the old burial-ground. There go two, there twoscore in a whirling, scudding flurry, like a swift-blown bunch of autumn leaves. For more than an hour they keep passing till the dusk turns to darkness, till all are tucked away in bed.

Dallas Lore Sharp - Roof and Meadow