Itchy new feathers

This juvenile swallow stopped on our flat roof for a good old scratch. I liked his grown-up chin feathers alongside his fluffy, baby tummy feathers. It must be itchy when your new feathers are growing. (Well, that and mites, I suppose!)

So here's the new ditty he inspired:

Gales blow cold in every bone.
Rain feeds damp to every joint.
The sun is leaving us alone
But swallows never disappoint.

poem © Celia Warren 2012