first of birds
great flops, I hear
skittish, smacking trees
unbelievable buffoons
when the wind was not right
they would be lost in the clouds
frail fluffs of flight
forgotten, lost
lost, it would seem, like the dinosaurs
or the Atlanteans
the never-again and the never-was
but they found their way, at last
through the multi-hued skies
through multifarious forms
raised one wing at the right time
parried with the other
lovely darts
propelled up through
the alleyways of history
up through
to the present age
to the trees and streets
woods and rooftops
those ever-saints
and sometimes-thieves
