I

creeping up slowly through the dew
dirt and grit stuck to a slimed back
trailing off into the pre-dawn purple
pink elastic head pushes forth
exploring new territory for foodstuffs
on a chilly morn
near a dilapidated barn
greying wood darkened
both by the time of day
and the coating of early morning moisture
stretching out and doing
a masterful accordion impression
the tiny flesh-colored soldier
presses on so as to eat
before the sun finds and cooks him


II


still wet, a brown milk cow travels slowly
bell clangs randomly
as if the uneven ground were sheet music
and her hooves the fingers of Bach
long lolling tongue stretches forth
to clean away nostril debris
and reposition yesterday’s cud
one large eye scans the farmhouse door
looking for a light or signs of life
as the daily fest arrives
with each breaking day
a low bawl escapes her mush filled mouth
an attempt to signal as the sun cometh


III


upon a post a small finch lights
without fanfare or announcement
a song bursts forth
filling the quiet valley with whistles
followed by chirps and tweets
the greeting is returned  by a thrush
hiding in the brambles
soon a chorus erupts to greet the sunshine
and express gratefulness for another
beginning
bouncing down and fishing a twig
the little finch, proud of her concert
returns to the job
nests do not build themselves
and the young will come in short order
mashing the twig
into a muddy slot
and stamping it perfectly into place
eyes cast across the meadow
seeking flying insects unaware…



breakfast at the farm takes many forms