.what the birds know.

they collect on the roof.
the birds and i are perched
alike, steeping in the sun.
they move one by one by
three and so forth.
and i wonder what it is
that they know, flying
about in sequences of
no particular balance to
my understanding.
i wonder if my marvel
is viewed as ignorance.
the sun begins to nestle
itself in the horizon
and i must let them be
to their business.

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