Guest Poem

The Swallows

Over the door a nest

not there last weekend.

The swallows now must share the porch

disturbing our breakfast of coffee and muffins

flying around our heads. 

Apple cinnamon muffins.

Making me giggle while I duck the swallows. 

They perch on the window checking us

checking the nest.

We are all waiting for the same thing

us and the swallows

for the eggs to hatch and big mouths showing above the rim.

Barn swallows.

Why do they nest on our house.

We do have a barn you know.

A nest above our door,

another at the far end of the porch,

and one at the back of the house.

Spring is over

but the swallows keep nesting.

A summer full of mud and down falling to the floor

sticking to the floor

sticking and sticking

like the nest is sticking over our door. 

Never again we say. 

Next summer there cannot be a nest over our door.

They can have the far end of the porch

and the back of our house

but not our entrance door.

So we hang a blue and orange chipmunk,

a prize at the county fair we thought we'd never need,

and now we have a nest at the end of the porch and

at the back of our house

but the entrance door is ours.

=====================

Sheila Berkman Rodbell

Canaan N.Y

August 1994