They are out
the egrets and the herons–
the egrets with their marauding span of wings;
gentle titans of the sky.
The herons with their dull, cobalt ells
long, thin elbow-ells nodding to the undercooked clouds;

they are out
the lowland birds
red and blue and yellow pinafores flitting colors from the wires,
calling songs from their grasses;

they are out
the unguarded horses of daybreak
running fencelines,
giddy with the advent of a meal;

they are out
the father’s morning voice
sighing words to the small boy as they gather eggs,
smelling like honey and fodder and earth…

KarenHansonPercy