waiting for word

a line
of black birds
against
a smooth canvas
of grey
clouds.
it's freezing,
but they don't
seem to mind
in their
tight black
jackets,
stiff beaks,
that neither
grimace
or smile.
they seem to be
waiting,
waiting for
a word
on where to fly
next.
how often you too
have waited
for those
words
to be heard
as you sit
on a black line
against
the wintry sky.