This is the year I will net the shed eaves to prevent swallows from resting there—not like last year or the one before when I’d knock down nest after nest that the pair would weave. Sometimes I would find one hid so well I’d only know it was built because of the slick white shit shat on an uncovered Adirondack chair I’d stored over there.

Regrets. 

Beside the downed nest 
six speckled eggs 

broken reveal 
full formed chicks 
again. Regrets. 

—Long-Listed Finalist in MacQ’s Cheribun Challenge #2

Publisher’s Note:

See also Tips to prevent barn swallow nests this spring (“Federal law prohibits disturbing barn swallows once they nest, so take preventive action now”) by Susan Himes at Texas A&M AgriLife Today (21 March 2023).

Dick Westheimer

lives in rural southwest Ohio with his wife and writing companion, Debbie. He is winner of the 2023 Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and a Rattle Poetry Prize finalist. His poems have appeared or are upcoming in Abandon Journal, Minyan, Only Poems, Rattle, and Whale Road Review. His chapbook, A Sword in Both Hands: Poems Responding to Russia’s War on Ukraine, is published by SheilaNaGig.

Author’s website: Poetry, Poetics, and Their Discontents