I spied them carefully as if I was
meant to court them as they hung on
the Edison above the roof, slightly
swaying with the breeze.
So unique a singing voice with so
many songs, yet louder than the
sparrow or swallow, chicks following
close at hand.
The older ones clothed in blue-gray
with white feathered bellies, the younger
ones mostly gray, they sit elegantly on the
wire ballerinas balanced with perfectly
straight wings, sirens teasing, hunters
looking for exotic caterpillars or just
basking in the sun with a song, each
one unique with a mind of its own.