At the edge of a sloping 
field of sweet grass, a white 
and tan beagle, her grainy 
coat bristling in the sun, 

sits alert, eyes scanning, 
nostrils flaring for rabbits. 
Long leaves and stems scissor 
back and forth in the wind, 

scratching out a whispered 
rhythm. A mockingbird stands 
tall in a holly tree, singing 
bright arias. She bounces 

down branches to her nest, 
sailing through her repertoire 
in search of a song, a lullaby 
to spread over her children, 

held tight in their shells. 
Clusters of red berries nod 
around them like red flags 
of warning. And far above 

a hawk slips down wind, 
his wings rocking, his eyes, 
gold and ebony, skimming 
down the rows of cornstalks.  

Bio: Malcolm Glass