Village Birds

Those who laid
the village stones
and beams and eaves
didn’t have the birds in mind — the rooks, I mean,
and doves and bright white gulls and lanky herons
perched and peeking down
from roofs rent-free,
keeping their opinions
to themselves, not
wondering why we lost
our feathers or why
we sometimes sing.

This piece appears in Waymark Literary Magazine.