They flowed through the summer evening on tawny wings, catching the breeze, mastering the air channels and racing the contours of the land.
Up the tight valley they poured, like sand in an hourglass, crimped together where the hills squeezed the stream, spread like butter as it levelled over fields.
Banking and veering on scimitar wings, short stubby V tails finessing the flow patterns as the sand bank rushed in, full of open mouths.
Gaping maws, orange as you like, awaiting a plug of bug and mayfly to be inserted deep into new Sand Martin throat.
New life, hungry life, preparing for Africa.
Thanks Jason, As I watched the Samhain story memories of childhood come flooding back and I know why the countryside and nature keep calling to me. Living through this lockdown has become a nightmare and you remind me why open spaces are so precious to man or woman..
Thank you for your thoughts here Theresa. Yes, nature does call us back doesn’t she and is waiting there for us when we are ready and able to engage.