The summer migrants
have returned
the humble house martens
that wintered
in North Africa

They’re back
in time for the daffodils
for the last
of the winter crocuses

Last night at dusk
I watched them
darting to and fro
feeding on the wing

Soon their minds
will turn to building
nests—temporary homes
under the eaves
somewhere to raise
a young family

John Lyons