What are these birds

What are these shapes i am making?

Birds, carriers, winged, eyed;

willing beyond their clumsy wood

to loose from hand to sky.

Love letters?

to the yew trees first burnishing with the rising sun,

to the secret geometry of the new bales in the stubble,

to the blond turn of the oats in the wind,

to the red of the robin flecking, tic-tac, gathering the red beech nuts...

like Noah's dove they are a pledge

to belonging

and return.