Friends
Announced by the lengthening days,
they arrived, a curious tribe of upbeat
swallows. After serious attempts
to discourage urgent nesting efforts,
deconstructing the bits of mud and moss,
all the debris that has been carefully
brought together, I smile and surrender
to what is unfolding. With the rising sun,
hungry little beaks now perch at the edge
of a nest, eager for the return of mother
and father. Routine is established.
One day I open our door and see a baby
has fallen out of the nest. Cold and still,
it rests on our front porch. The next day
yet another has somehow fallen. It was
right to stop, remember, to offer time.
In the stream of days, the last baby is
flying and the collective simply moves on.
This morning I noticed their nest remains
still intact under our front eves, close to
new wind chimes. We are passing through
the winter solstice now. The days are
beginning to get longer. I smile, fondly
awaiting the return of these friends.