sitting in my car on the other side of the street from my apartment building, i looked up through the windshield and saw masses of plain old birds. to my eyes, they were too plain to even have a type. but they were birds. listening to classical music as i idled with hint of lime tostitos and seven-layer dip, i could see that the birds seemed to have a general idea of migration today, and some flew with the big dance number while others chose to idle for awhile, too. high altitude rest spots varied from the old telephone pole to a few trees just in the process of changing their colors.
if there was a plan for today, not everyone was in it. some birds were taking their time, and some were just flying. some were flying away.
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