Skirmish

Arrayed at the dead-ended, gravel-

Bruised utility road was a murder of

Crows. Their shadows were

Daggered by those of the pines

Enveloping the road. Through the crows'

Fronts and backs, their legs, their

Gripping talons, the pine shadows

Hurried. Sunset light

Irradiated past breaks in the trees to

Jut as off-

Kilter, staggered reflections

Locked to the pine shadows. But the

Murder of crows

Noticed little of the shadows'

Operation. Instead, they dropped

Pitch-colored beaks to gravel, ignorant of any

Quarreling. They searched for

Rich meals under the

Stones tossed and long un-

Touched by utility-vehicle tires. They

United with caws when one was

Victorious, taking flight on

Wings the sun made vibrant as

Xantus's hummingbird feathers.

Yet bound to gravel, the pine shadows

Zealously stretched on still.