enduring the urban winter

daring the day uncovered
            by way of a chaos of crows
                                  pulling on the weather
   breaking from their perches
crooking their feathered hinges
and 'carring' up the first subtle wash of light
     
they lift and clump to make a short migration
            from the city to...? [shrug]
their flight pattern seems more of a 'wit' or a 'prank'
  than a '******'
the sun machines to complete its horizon
              tugged by the last departing birds

returning in the afternoon
with the full light provided
          and messy winds to charge them
like malicious children from the playground gate
       fed and joy fighting at their hierarchy
              whilst in an unbattened flight
                      back into the city

in summer it will be the gulls