there are friends at my front and a long line behind
diagonally in a V shape we fly
it’s been that way all of my life, i recall
not that i mind, it gets cold in the fall

most of the time, i look side to side
ensuring we’re all navigating the sky
correctly, but sometimes i notice myself looking down
directly, toward trees where we nest before leaves become brown

a particular view from so very far
above all the cities called home for a season
like speckles of dust, those giant things are
running about without rhythm or reason

peculiar indeed are the people i see
strange creatures emerging from monsters of steel
often i wonder where they need to be
frantically rushing for reasons unreal

unreal to me, at least from my perch
i can’t understand why they run to and fro’
could it be, like our V, that they’re also in search
of a place to find comfort away from the snow?