The first were barn swallows, gliding
through an open door
to reach their mud nests in the rafters,

and after that crows, black on the white
branches in the cow yard,
dour as parish priest,

then pigeons in the hay barn,
plump silhouettes
in the high window,

robins under the apple trees,
heads bent over red breasts,
worrying for worms,

the lark, down in the meadow,
swaying on a reed
beyond the wild iris,

and a hawk, always circling,
waiting for a ripple
in the grass.