a dozen or more
black birds find the wire
across the highway.
undisturbed by the day, or weather.
they sit
in curious judgement, or
ambivalence.
who's to know
their minds sitting still
like this,
together.
how black they are, oiled
and large, tightly feathered
in their coats,
in no hurry for whatever
lies before them.
no worries. unlike us.
shivering in the cold and
questions
of tomorrows.
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