We sit there and watch them, us five,
as the sand martins dip and dive towards their home.
The young wait at the door,
their heads peeping out.
Across the river from them,
I sit with my young tribe
And think how fast the time has gone,
And how they have grown.
These three beauties that we are in some way
and in no way responsible for.
They sit with us on the bank,
by the still brook,
watching the birds.
I am honoured by their presence.
EDIT: A later version of this poem appears in my book There You Are, a collection of 34 hand lettered and illustrated poems about motherhood. You can find it in my Etsy shop here.
elisabeth pike 