Redpolls (Carduelis caberet), fidgeted high in the larch, picked clean Capability’s cones
and a few fragile fallow fawns shivered by the guard of red stags.
Then with a flash of blue’, the final whistle sounded on the plough,
the white swan took flight with a last wheezing of the pipes,
and I stood in the grove while silent swallows swerved around my knees.
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