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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