Swallows fly in sweep before the tractor catching bugs in flush from engine’s sound. Back and forth, they pass in swoop, angle of wings and v of their tails spread in arcs and glide; violet blue of topsides of their bodies, peach and cream flash when bellies show. Mind is restless, won’t fix to a thought. I stop trying, forcing, and roll with the tractor watching swallows in their flight.