like soldiers
The birds have triangular tails They wheel in the air The sky grey metal The clouds touch earth The dust from yesterday Coming down in a cascade of white and gold And across the marsh the steely river Is high on its banks and threatens the land the fields, the houses all huddled among trying to keep out the chill of the sun It's March and the snow banks have retreated but the water runs high it's March, two months after Christmas a month before Easter It's March and the steady progress of time has never been so loud out in this field as we wait for the sun