ant5

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the starlings

urge you to open

the henhouse

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the jay turns

when you

chuckle

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the vulture’s circle

veers our

way again

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in the tall grass

under the birch

the hens peer out

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yellow tansy

death in

her pocket

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all day long

one white egg

in the clear bowl

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you smell

its breath before

you see it

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the almond finishes

blossoming in

the haze

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amongst themselves

doves

terrifying

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you look at me

with the eye you think

sees through me

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