A mist of indigo veils the night.
The flap of wings rouses me to flight.
Time to survey my domain
While the others must remain.
The flap of wings grows loud.
They descend from a cloud.
We rise to the sky,
Watchers from up high.
Our squawks echo past the trees,
Ruffling the moonlit leaves.
We join forces in the quiet night,
Leaving our young out of sight.
SUSANNE LEIST 