A Pestilence of Grackles
Low above the empty street
feather shafts and hollow bones
a crowd of birds with slim blue feet
applauding in a noisy show
the radiance of a chill blue sky
and not a hundred feet below
that is what I saw today
flying machines from long ago
circling near and far away
and they will live to flutter still,
with their delightful speckled eggs
those our shotguns do not kill.
Brian Whatcott is a writer from Oklahoma. He and his wife, Norma, have three children. He enjoys flying, sailing and water-skiing.