Blackbirds leaving

Literary Review, Spring, 2004 by David Tucker

Blackbirds Leaving

The light hitting the rooftops

at a certain angle on a certain fall day,

maybe that was it, or some old map

to the south suddenly

lighting up in the brain. At any rate,

there was a sudden quiet in the trees,

one bolted and then another

and they all lifted in unison,

veering for the north in the shape

of a black scarf, then turning back

and swooping over the house

with a low roar of wings.

So much silence then. The trees empty,

a few feathers eddying down,

a cricket singing in the weeds,

and there was that feeling

that soon it would snow.