4.

no wind, as two blackbirds
(I like to think they were
blackbirds)
perched symmetrically atop
a telephone wire saw
me

me, erasing their
brief, rancid mark of existence
them, drunk off birdseed and
chirping this conversation:

Bird A: There he goes a'cleaning.
Bird B: And for what?
Bird A: We'll hit it again in a few hours.
Bird B: If extraterrestrial life observed us, they
would think that birds are greater than
humans.
Bird A: It's not like we're cleaning up their shit.
Bird A & B: Caw caw caw caw caw!

the birds are right
they navigate the pristine blue firmament
while I, the humble farmer, scrape away
their feces from the limited ground