The citizens chuckle among themselves
and smooth their glossy feathers.
Yesterday they thrived on the mishaps
of that unfortunate species that slowly plods
along terminal streets of their own making.
They wait overhead,
shadows that see all and observe no arbitrary boundaries.
Today perhaps, with luck they will feast
on the generosity of strangers
and tomorrow on the refuse of now-minded
selfish criminal kings.
The citizens smooth their feathers
and prepare to take flight at the first glimmer of light--
not yet dawn, but ravenrise.
The air stirs, and soon
By the hundreds, thousands they cross the sky
muttering softly to one another,
sharing the tall tales of prospectors
of treasures lost and won, places to seek
and sudden deaths outwitted.
March 5, 2008