I looked up and there was one low upon the sky. And then three seven twelve. Then too many to count or even see- a torrent flying just beyond my reach. Golden underbellies and outstretched wings turning the blemished sky for a moment into a feathered quilt. Then there were fewer …. fewer nine five one,
and one more.
I know they did not come for me, and yet they did.
Julie Doerner
This article appears in ‘Poke the Bear’.