Sailing swiftly along the salted seashore,
Your whiteish throat flanks brown streaks
That accentuate comedic orange brows.
Amongst saline marshes and sunken reeds
You build your nests in tall grasses,
Limited by any stable support to protect
Our token gesture of ‘high concern’;
Your whispery, wheezy song a knowing nod
To the limitations of your non-adaptive home.
And whilst others sing of your promiscuity,
Your profligate mating habits are no match for
The profligacy with which we destroy your habitat.
A row of empty nests, their underlying thatch
Floating in the low tides of our inaction.
The saltmarsh swallow (Photo Credit: Bill Hubick).
This poem is inspired by recent research, which has found that that
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