Head lights illuminate
the pot marked street.
Laurels arch their branches
over the road, casting
shadows
hands
cross
my field
of vision.
A murmuration
chased by
a murder
is revealed
at the end.
The roar
of engine
mixes with
the cries
of starlings
of crows
of wind.
A murmuration
chased by
a murder
scatters
the sunset.
Crows chase
cottonwood
fluff
darting
left
right
in front
of me.
A murmuration
chased by
a murder
and I
fear
impact.