Starling

I stare at

shit splatter pathway,

coming from what?

Then she flies up,

head disappearing up metallic tube

I see something in her mouth.

Of she goes,

my head cocks curiously

is something inside,

was she getting food?

That’s when he appears,

suddenly emerging,

the flap wags after him.

‘What a home,’ I think,

imagining the warm dark interior

safe from predators

high up from the ground.

‘The fan must be broken,’ you say,

former wind tunnel turned

starling bungalow.

Homes are piled together here.

Aviary and human.

We eat, we forage.