In the evening darkness they roam
Long after others have gone home
Their plaintive calls rending the stillness
Lull my soul into a soothing happiness.
The day gatherers intrude into the night
Still energetic not losing their sight
Making one after another quick foray
As a last ditch effort for a bowl of prey.
I wonder at them and their strange deed
Their act of extra filling they so badly need
I see their funny flights as a bronzed patch
Furtively swooping for a prized catch.
Then suddenly they're gone leaving behind a trail
Of a flutter in the wind and the sunned wings' smell
I wish I could follow them to see where they go
Those passing guests of night the bronzed drongo!