Disumulation of Birds


Clustered on the bare bone branches of a tree
crouching on the edge of Central Park
a worrying number of black birds stare
into the window of an apartment where
a woman contemplates taking her life.
There is nothing to indicate that the birds
know what is happening other than their
preternatural stillness. Throughout the day
they will be joined by more of their ilk until
their numbers blot out the sky.
If she ceases to breathe, they will swirl up
into a formation rarely seen anywhere,
but especially within cities – a murmuration – it
will feel like a celebration and perhaps it should.


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