Our Swallows.

Amid the dirt and dust it has found a strand of straw, taken it in its beak, wings beating with effort, carried it to the poplar tree and come back again. Again and again it has gone and come back again and again it searches the dirt and dust for a leaf stalk or a bit of twig, with its gaze on the top of the poplar: the nest. A birth is on its way: soon, very soon...