Each morning now,
a Red-tailed Hawk stands
on the last post at the south end
of the corral, facing the pasture.
This morning, there were two—
one nearby on a giant bale of hay.
I’m thinking
they are the best mousers.
I greet them
from the back porch,
not as chicken- or kitten-hunters,
but as mousers. They don’t take their eyes
off the pasture.



In the evening,
Canada Geese almost cover
the reservoir pond
south of the farmhouse. They honk
at each other, a gaggle of sound. I don’t know what
they say. Surely, it’s about something
routine; not the events of the day…
as they’ve been together, mostly.
They’re louder as something sets
them aflight… Well, maybe they weren’t
all together all day: They form three
groups, one heading out of sight to the north,
one, closer, but to the west—I imagine
to the big pond on the Robertson Place. And one
circles back, crossing the orange sky,
silently now… I’m not
taking my eyes off them.