Past the equinox and the last swallows perch

Like random notes on a one-line stave

Rocking gently, tails dipping

Some in pairs, others lone

Forsaking company.

But their siblings have mostly flown

On to warmer climes

Braving who knows what hazards

In the never-ending search

For warmth and food.

Are these tardy visitors afraid of the journey?

Or did they enjoy their Tenby summer

As much as we did, bright and beautiful

Skimming over gold and blue,

And now loathe to leave.

Helene McKenna