06-29-2014, 12:11 AM
In spring when the last bale is fed out
and before this year's crop,
another twenty thousand strong,
fills the gaping space again,
a multitude build their nests
along the ancient hay fork track
and in the dozens of corner braces
that grace the timber frame.
Long before first light
sporadic voices predict the dawn,
and as the east begins to glow
a hallelujah chorus forms among the beams.
Amplified by half an acre of tin roof
is this rejoicing at the defeat of darkness.
In the bones of a rural cathedral
exuberant praise for the morning.
and before this year's crop,
another twenty thousand strong,
fills the gaping space again,
a multitude build their nests
along the ancient hay fork track
and in the dozens of corner braces
that grace the timber frame.
Long before first light
sporadic voices predict the dawn,
and as the east begins to glow
a hallelujah chorus forms among the beams.
Amplified by half an acre of tin roof
is this rejoicing at the defeat of darkness.
In the bones of a rural cathedral
exuberant praise for the morning.