Black bodied, oranged breasted bombers.
Acrobats darting and flying about.
Seemingly random and but focussed.
Mud for the nest, soft bedding.Mud, carried in tiny beaks.
Trip after endless trip.
Spit into rows, built tiny bricks.
Layer by layer rising up.
Resting frail on nail or ledge.
Plant fluff, breast feathers.
The bed soft for the eggs,
Lined for the treasure of young
Eggs, small and perfectly frail.
Life growing, life reaching to
break free and begin their demands.
Black bodied, oranged breasted.
Small bodies, almost all mouth.
Cries for more! More! More!
One darting capture, happless insect
delivered to the demanding babes.
Mouths ever open, parents ever bringing.
Weeks exhausting pass in summer's sun.
Hot days, raining days, morning and night.
Mama and Papa bringing food, defending them.
On my deck with a coffee.
I hear a new sound.
No longer nest bound but not flying.
Lined up on the ledge, a hungry line.
Quiet watching, eyes only moving.
Until a parent is spotted!
The fastest mouth is fed.
The quickest babe to cry.
The others wait, quietly.
Without plan or measure.
Each gets fed, fairly until full.
Each parent rests on the light cover.
Baby barn swallows.
Soon will fly.
Mama and Papa
will do it
copyright 2011 Shanyn Silinski