Eyeing up birds

When I go out I eye up birds
In the slow billious sky

Like cerebral cortex

A flash, twist,

Monochrome anomalys 

Black capped gulls, in a squall
A pair, a gust,
A solitary seeker of storms

Beats wings in firm wind

The Corvids take turns on the chimney pots

A brace of magpies, a heavy crow

A parliament on the tiles, along the gutters 

The pigeons like frightened aerobatic fish

A swinging escher print in vain escape

Synchronised round poplar trees race

A frantic school or flock, flayed against the evening sky

A red kite hovers

Eyes tight to some verge

Scrap of grass on a side street

Not languid like thermal 

Sitting sentinels of Delhi's sky

But a fierce menacing grace

I think of the red fort and youth

Against a blue white sky.

The birds are bipeds

With an L-shaped larynx

Like us. All they lack is

Thumbs and grammar

All we lack is warm feathers and wings.