Two o’clock a Robin is scolding,
Ten o’clock another chatters in defense,
Like a bomber pilot I mark
The scattershot birds by their hours,
Reference points level on the dial
Keeping the watch, standing the guard,
Making the work of marauders too hard,
They are the sentries, the males, as behind each one
Quiet as the breeze is still
Sits a hen, low in her thatched-mud cup
As does she, our Ladybird, in the arborvitae,
Black pool eyes all sides of day,
Eastertide come gone away,
As you roost your treasures cerulean blue,
May I tell you what we will do?
We’ll remain still, dear Ladybird,
It’s just the snaking wind you heard
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