The birds dropped
from the wire like leaves.

As the more known poet said, There is no other way
to say this.


The birds dropped
like leaves from the wire.

                            This, on the way to pick up
my mother to take her somewhere she needed
to be.

And it had seemed as if it would rain all day
and the wind was sharp around corners. And I was going
a speed past the allowed, and there they were—

                a line of them on the wire. Blackbirds, I think, as if
falling into the long grass below. As if the wire were a tree
and they were its leaves following a hard frost.