Just me and God in a Frozen Field

Not long ago
this frozen stubble
held leftovers
from a bountiful harvest.

It held a raucous flock
filling up, gearing up
for the great migration.  Suited
with layers of feathers and fat

and strong wings
that lifted them aloft,
they left
for some magical land

that is a stranger
to winter.
Now
it is almost spring:

Time for the creeks to be thawing;
time for the air to be warming.
Oh glorious time,
the flock will soon be returning.

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