It opens with the wind, gusting.
The birds enter gradually,

as if on cue: blackbirds
and grackles, crows

puncturing the distant skies,
starlings layered into

the drone of airplane overhead.
A bird I’ve only just learned

to identify as a sora sings, almost
drowned out by another airplane

and the trucks on the highway
behind the line of trees. The wind

crescendos, beating its green drums
until a branch snaps and falls.

Red-winged blackbirds enter
with a crazy song, like

cracked bells chiming. Finally,
the sweet sound of the lawnmower

across the afternoon, engine and 
blade turning leaves into grass.