Waters It is as if this lake that rocks a canoe had no shore like crazy thoughts. the water would flow away. That is the fate of waters that have no shore. Squelchy mud, mucksy puddle and vacuum sludge would swallow you. A river cannot lack a shore like a girl chasing mirages. sneaking off to a tryst, chattering, babbling scurrilities or secrets the water whispers snuggles, caresses, licks, tickles amorously the shore’s opening thighs. The shore is neither dam, nor barrier: sky sowing herding toward god-given wild, or tame goals. The Swallows they diligently carried the material to their nest I watched from the porch as three were built at the same time under the eaves of the uninhabited house there was a system in their hopping back and forth they did not cross each other's paths I didn't see any hay or mud neither hen nor bird feathers falling down from the nests being built maybe three weeks had gone by when tiny swallows appeared in nest op...