By Karen Vande Bossche

because we don’t complain
about the piteousness of dove gray clouds
or the ostentation of aerial blue
because we need slumber less
to troop and swing by tail and limb
the kettle and boil of night flight
because we want the company
of our own huddle of wing and beak
rhumba and rattle of bodies
because we crave the wise
parliament of each other’s eyes
the bark of our own salacious congregation
because we do not fall plump
into a wedge of waiting water
but wonder at our murmuration of luck

Copyright 2018 Vande Bossche