I see circling
of the birds,
gliding and swooping
chasing and racing
noisily,
joyfully,
trilling and thrilling,
echoing,
talking smack
with each hard flap.
Musical fellows are these
winged creatures,
and masterful linguists.
They put on a show
that delights
and confounds.
Then they line up on
a wire to catch their
breath, take a humble
bow, and in a blink
they are gone,
with a flutter
and a flap
as we wave
and we clap,
calling for more.
Bravo!
Encore!
But they all fly away.
Show's over for today.
