hirundo rustica (edit)

it was sad to see them go.

their orange breasts peaked in the early morning hours
when they'd dive bomb passers with their eager chit-chit chit-chit-chit;
signaling warning signs that were mostly signs of defeat,
but we'd recognize their bravery anyway:

(they remind me of you.
the one so eloquent in action that it'd be hard to see
from an outside perspective that the bravery inside you was the
reaction of earlier interactions gone astray.
you're so polite, baby, because they made you that way - )

by early june they'd be gone.
the nest, though empty, resonates with their call,
silence and distraction walking with me,
somewhere far off, remembering where they
would return.