The Birds

Usually the birds flew
since they were told that they 
should 
sometimes they sat on 
wires
since they did not believe they
could
and sometime they lay
like raw dough on the pavement
only the feathers alive in the wind
none of the birds spoke 
neither the living or the dead
the ones on the wires 
sometimes looked at you
head settled on tight shoulders
and their feather shawls
ruffled in muted wind
soldiers in their trench coats
they looked like an army
or quite possibly a funeral procession
and none spoke
the flying birds
did not careen
or swoop
or spin in pleasant loops
they looked as dead as the 
mounds on the pavement
every so often the birds would switch places
the ones on the wire 
diving onto the pavement
wings splaying 
feathers straining
the flying birds would 
clasp the wire like
neckties
the dead birds would 
take their leave between
the blink of an eyelid
and all the birds would
continue
no one could catch the 
birds
or name them
or expain them
and they continued with no
purpose discerable from
the pavement
because they could
because they should