Eleventh Day, April 6th

I woke up this morning to flights of birds,  

zooming through the rain in tight formation,  

black and white cartoon highways  

chocka with traffic.  

Wings ticklingly close, bodies warm and pulsing,  

moving together, never knocking or blocking.  

Higher and faster, so close raindrops must fall  

from the tail of one into the eye of the next.  

A congregation of slip streams.