a kajillion of them swarming the tops of the trees
on their way to the Gulf...and then
some little group branches off and circles back against the flow
of the horde.
What are they doing?
Is there a slow bird or three that won't leave, that has fallen in love with a local, that is just enjoying
the breeze a little too long?
Does this rescue group seek to urge them along, nag them, threaten, cajole, charm or remind them of
what ice does to wings?
Does it work? It seems to.
Whatever their collective conversation.... it is a Mind we will never know.