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Flock of birds going toward trees

Whoopa, whoopa, whoopa,
echoed the air as they flew in,

their dark feathers stark
against the cold, gray sky.

Drawn to our berry-laden trees, their
beaks quickly filled with winter fruits,

juices dribbling down their breasts as they sampled the fare,
seeds spilling out as they reached for more.

It’s wasn’t long before the roof above me
sounded as if it were caving in, the

thunderous bohm, bohm, bohm
as hundreds of birds pounced upon landing.

Drops of water sloshed over the gutter
as they drank at the ready trough of melted snow.

I couldn’t help but watch as they regathered
in formation, no fighting over leadership,

no squawking or squealing or even chittering,
just a gentle breeze of whoooo as they took flight,

completely satisfied with the simplest of things…
a full tummy, a quenched thirst, and

renewed strength to reach great heights
in the company of friends.

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