"The Barn Swallow"

barn swallows

The Barn Swallow

Summer mornings I'd watch as he

of wing and tapered tail, royal and rust,

and early morning swoops over field and lawn

dive-bombed my not-so-innocent cat -

shoulders hunched, eyes averted

whose tail, raised in supposed surrender,

would suddenly twist and paw for the arial acrobat

always just out of reach.

Even spied my little lion, quivering, chattering, 

balancing on barn's wooden beams, eyes fixated 

on unattainable little mud cup plastered to the wall

where five little nestlings precariously perched,

tipping, swaying at nest's edge

seemingly willing to offer themselves up 

any minute with a vertical fall.

A few found fate's end

flat and lifeless as a preserved flower

between the pages of a book -

their press a dirt floor and a horse's hoof.

As my cat aged (and wizened)

he in my lap and I reading a book,

we'd let evening tide tuck us in beneath shadowed porch,

tangerine sky settling in, and watch the skimming aces 

frolic after winged insects, their kvik, kvik, wit, wit 

joining mid-summer's lullaby.

by Margaret Bednar, June 30, 2016

You're invited to listen to me read my poem:  https://soundcloud.com/margaretbednar/the-barn-swallow

Our family has made the move to the mountains and I unpacked the last box today.  I still have a few trips to Goodwill and a few drawers to organize, but the downsizing and relocation feels great!  I was able to find a barn to board our Quarter Horse and it is in an amazing setting with 60 miles of well-groomed Blue Ridge mountain trails!  I can't wait to be inspired by them.  I walked beneath this barn swallow's nest (I used an app to digitally change it)  while my son played with a barn kitten and it brought back the memory I shared above.  

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: Tuesday Platform".