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