Birds on a Wire

Like a perverted young teenage boy peeping through his sexy female neighbor’s bedroom window,
Dozens of small eyes gaze at me from the power lines across the street.
These winged friends intently observe their surroundings from above.
While resting their tired, feathered wings,
They breathe the cold, crisp air and
Announce their presence in a muted chorus.

Are they watching me or
Searching for gnats and bugs for a tasty midday snack?
Do the vibrating wires below their feet hum a soothing and stimulating tune?
How spectacular is the view from up there, I wonder?
I often wish I could fly.
I dream of my next life as a nimble and fearless hawk soaring high above the mountain tops.

A gust of wind, a distant sound or perhaps the scent of an edible distracts a handful to flight.
With the window closed, I refrain from sudden movements or sounds to spook them not.
Some days, whether walking outside or closing my car door,
I have unintentionally frightened them away.
I have been awed, though, by the subsequent orchestral whoosh of their wings’ collective crescendo.

After a few minutes, all but seven remain, while the others return aloft.
But, dare I speak too soon,
They return in droves and emerge for an encore.
It’s comforting to witness and feel their presence outside my window,

Before, alas, they depart one final time.