Condolences
An urban bird of prey, talons on the telephone wire. The bush beneath it wailing with the b-side harmonies of house sparrows. They need neither words nor specificity to convey urgency. The raptor not even that.
In time, all birds fly off. The beak descends, the air is furious with blurs, drab against the snowless city day.
To condole is to attempt the impossible. Urgency with useless words. Allow me to sit between you and the piercing sharpened roving eye for just a little time.
