Wanderers home

I finally succumbed to the Nog

interfering with my attempts to instal balusters

guarding the stair..

and took him up the hill.

I’d been listening to a report

on endangered birds:

dotterel –seen but not often,

pied flycatcher –not a clue

curlew..still quite common thankfully

albatross..er…still waiting.

Standing by Sarah Justina’s viewpoint

in a cold breeze spotted with raindrops

I thought of how much wild birds contributed

to life observed

and therefore

life lived:

the mallard that waddle comically about the yard in pairs

the ravens that announce themselves with a single rasping croak

the partridge that ticks like an angry clock from pasture concealment

the…er..

..what’s that little bird twisting through the cold hill breeze??

dark with a flash of white at the rump..

ahh..a martin.

A martin?

It’s a housemartin.

The martins are back!!!!!!!!

O –praise be..

it’s not that they bring summer any closer

like some painted panel wheeled across the scene;

it’s just that I will have their company for the next five months

chatting and quarrelling around the eaves

building and feeding

swooping and gliding

rising and falling

riding the airs

blowing past open windows.

..until they gather again.

Welcome friends.