Silent Migration

Dark shadows wrapped in trench coats under black umbrellas that catch the wind and fly, rippling blackbirds rising up to mountain peaks our feet can’t reach.

We don’t know why we march in silence.

We don’t know where we are going.

The storm clouds and the fire behind the mountain pull us higher, a migration of umbrellas and the foolish as the birds caw black, they look back as we trudge.