Tree buds seem to pop out
and grow overnight,
giving the trees a green glow
against the sky.
We saw another baby grasshopper
food for the guinea fowl
who are, thankfully,
roaming the farm now.
Joe and Maizey,
accustomed to flocks of birds
and pheasant families,
complacently watch the guineas,
even when they come to eat
from the birdseed strewn
right in front of the porch
where Maizey is ensconced
in the wicker chair.
A flock of robins
landed in the alpaca pasture
the same morning
the Eastern Phoebe returned.
She sat on the fence
right next to the barn
while I was feeding the alpacas.
Then she/he? sang that breathy “Phee-bee”
from tree and electric wire overhead.
She seems to show up and sing
from the closest perch
wherever I am on the farm.
It is delightful.
The doves too
are singing—their coo to each other
and that kazoo-like sound they make.
I witness their mating dance
several times a day.
He hops toward her,
then they each fly up into the air
about a foot off the ground
and flutter at each other
before flying off together.
The world is waking up
from its brief,