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A Thousand Birds
by Bob Wright

I walk out through the dead
leaves and hear a thousand birds
chattering in the trees as they
pause on their way south. Should
I envy them their having somewhere
to go and someone to take them
on their long journey, these
creatures of the sky who know
what it is to soar? Who know
what it is to congregate? To stay
faithful? To raise a family?
I wonder, do they dream of other
birds in other times? Keep and
break promises? Long for
things? Or simply chatter and
fly and eat and live and die without
the pang of regret or even some
small satisfaction? How bittersweet
it must be to be bird, just as it is
to not be.

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