Gazing into a cloudy, darkened sky
Shafts of light peering through the gaps
Illuminating in the midst of shadowy grayness
And far above, on gilded wings
A feathered apparition glides in endless spirals.
The sudden crash of noise slams home the reality
of a parking lot.
Raucous calling of blackened rags
flapping over asphalt and over cars
There is work to be done.
