Out On A Limb
Birds of feather, all flocked together,
Wheel through the amber sky.
They twist and turn in unison,
Choreographed they fly.
Alas a tiny feathered speck.
Goes left as all turn right.
The others never taking note
Are quickly out of sight.
The single bird flies overhead,
Into the setting sun.
Confident in solitude
She is a flock of one.
