By: Holly Day

The blackbird flutters across the lake, perches curiously
on a church spire revealed by the drought.
As the water level drops, more of the town is revealed:

a city hall, a courthouse
a one–room schoolhouse, a dime store––
some with boards still nailed over their windows
as though preparing for a hurricane, or to keep looters out.

More birds settle on the buildings
as the days pass and more roosts emerge
stake claim to the town as though their word matters
fill the evening and morning with proprietary chatter.


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