my fear
thinks we’re alone
but I know better
dollops
of birdsong hint
at feathered gatherings
crow squabbles
announce something tasty
“Come! Come! Come!”
my fear chatters on blocking
her own hearing missing
the invitations
but I hear
pulling her by the hand chattering
still I follow
feathered conversations
crossing into sound
motion
wings and bright eyes
laughter explodes
into the beaked chaos
crow squabbles silence
fear claps her hand over
her mouth
wide-eyed
“Was that me?”
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