averting avicide

i can hear
the spidering
in your quiver.

see the flutter
of the wings
in the river.

bright beaks
that drink deep
and end up
empty.

black ice
and slack jaws
and ground teeth
tempting.

steady your aim
and do not flock
your focus.

on every bank
a shed feather
and locusts.

no,
only let fly
arrow true
and purposed.