The blackbirds

By -
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

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