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Above the treading commuters, surveying, you giggle. Tiny flurries hopping rod to bar to antenna making sure to be heard among bus honks and train squeaks, calling high. Trilling like typewriters in the satellite dishes that quiver undertalon, tapping and flitting around brothers and sisters of feathered energy. I don’t know what you are but shades of beak, blurs of tail, fluid shards of chatter bursting skyward. It rains, but you stay and laugh.
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Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
Hullabaloo
Above the treading commuters, surveying, you giggle. Tiny flurries hopping rod to bar to antenna making sure to be heard among bus honks and train squeaks, calling high. Trilling like typewriters in the satellite dishes that quiver undertalon, tapping and flitting around brothers and sisters of feathered energy. I don’t know what you are but shades of beak, blurs of tail, fluid shards of chatter bursting skyward. It rains, but you stay and laugh.
tom-clarke
Written by
English
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
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