Over-wintering

They came back so quietly. Together in as much as they shared the same air, rushing over the same turn of the earth. But this isn't together. This is being born at the same point in time when a bible doesn't get written, or an extinction doesn't occur, even in the undergrowth quietly. They are togther as two continents tearing apart slowly. She circles the ground looking to land, running out of fuel and banking into the wind. He stares up too busied with others, fuelled every night. But the answer why is never clear - waving hands dismiss it, sideways glances demarkate the no-fly zone. I raise my hands to the air everytime as if to say swans don't divorce, but it seems these days they do.