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.