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