perched on black phone lines and
black power lines and
black roofs of my neighbors and
my neighbors’ neighbors
but not on my roof.
until a mummuration
a sussuration of wings
and with eyes only for the wind
and instincts sending them
not far enough yet.
They swoop away, showing off their skill and their numbers and their
and nothing remains except
abandoned wires and roofs and
a faint panic rising in my chest.