August Squatters

 

Phantoms zip by
quieter than owls’ wings
quicker than flickers of shadow
against the dawn.

Catching the morning light
dust motes circle above the hay
on air currents disturbed
by invisible guests.

Discarded feathers and bits of eggshell
resting on the old concrete floor
beneath a beam are a clue.
The goats and I are not alone.
Barn swallows have returned.

Summer Guests

Barn swallows fly warily
into the old barn
wings fluttering,
voices twittering,
searching for a safe space
to place their nest.

A beam over the goat pen
will do.

Day by day
carrying mud and grass
they shape a perfect cup
to hold their young.

Tree swallows zip boldly
above the meadow
chattering,
hawking insects,
searching for a cavity
to build their nest.

The hanging gourd behind the barn
will do.

Day by day

carrying fine field grass
and feathers
they craft a downy bowl
to raise their young.

Swallows visit for such a short season.

While they are here
we share
each other's world.