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Lonesome Nests

You can hear the quiet across the water
when the Cliff Swallows leave their homes,

carefully built under sturdy wooden eaves of buildings
brushed by the mute witness of a saline breeze.

Their passerine young now away,
anxious, and off to chase tomorrow.

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Region, Country: San Francisco Bay Area - USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Bukowski, Billy Collins, Ted Kooser, Haiku & Harvey Kurtzman (a visual poet, of sorts)

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