in Lancaster County, PA

These birds woke up as rain lay down to sleep
To scatter dreams upon this false-spring field;
February alive from somewhere deep,
Reviving early with a hope to yield
The harvest sooner than it has before.
A warm wind seeping from beyond my prayers
To fill the feathers for these birds to soar
From stubble into windbreak branches there,
And then descend to thawed-out, breathing ground.
They tumble just like slowed-down popping corn,
And I am driving by with windows down,
So I can savor all this promise borne
On winter wings of this field’s common birds,
Withholding none of my hope’s stores so stirred.

You can listen to me read it here

soundcloud.com/benwhitepoetry/false-spring-birds