The blackbirds

The rain slants again

Over the field - 

a fast and scattered drop.

The blackbirds are ready;

they chase each pattered place 

and hop, hop for the worms -

black downturned faces dotted

on pale green mounds.

I was frowning at the sky 

when I prayed for dry ground

this morning.

I did not think of them -

Waiting for water,

Watchful, yellow-rimmed eyes

Looking in the same direction 

As mine,

Wings tucked in. 

C. LJ Ireton 2024