The Birds

    So I'm walking down the road and I'm wondering where the birds are. You see, every November, hundreds of some kind of black starling always make a pit stop in my back yard on their yearly migration to the South. They haven't come this year. I'm longing to see them.
    The next day, I trip and break my ankle. This is bummer central for me. Mobility is my thing, man. I'm nursing my wounds and wondering what positive thing I can concentrate on to pull my sorry ass self pity as far away from me as possible.
    I hobble outside on crutches and send a prayer up to whomever, to send me a sign, some hope, a diversion...
    I hear some twitters, some crackling sounds that get increasingly louder along with the beats of my heart.

    Hundreds of black silhouettes cover the sky, swooping and turning in beautifully choreographed precision. My birds are back and my heart becomes lighter for a few joyful moments - enough to last until my next prayer.