Minton's Glebe, 1690

 

The mourning doves

began the song

that charms

the stretching sun along

 

The trees they shook

their crinkled sound

to cast and spin

dry leaves to ground

 

The little wrens

backstitched the soil

and plumes of dust

rose up in swirls

 

The wind alighted

the light began

to knit and purl

the dawn again

 

The bobwhites threaded,

flying low

and whistled

to the man below

 

The red birds, paired

wove 'round the stones

to pick and pull

the earth from bones

 

And so the day

Came up again

The birds that mock the world did sing

of tom and mended,

folded wings.

 

Jennifer Hughes