From far above the liquid pool of slowly chilling river water, the black bird sat perched upon the upper branches of an immense oak tree. It's frail bough staggering with the might of a northward angled breeze and the bird's rather substantial weight.

From time to time, his wings fluttered as if to draw attention to his broad wingspan and regal baring. Sensing no ones rapt gaze, he cocked his head in the direction of a young couple necking heatedly on the grass bellow. Their occasional murmurs or moans of pleasure intrigued the handsome bird for but a few moments.

Quickly losing interest with the young pair, he flew from his perch in search of food.

Spreading his wings with the graceful motion nature had intended he soared and swooped above the river with speed and skill, cawing softly, he soon disappeared over the edge of the horizon

Watching the bird disappear, a soft sigh escaped him. Having watched the scene for several minutes with detached disinterest he'd felt the birds restlessness inside his own aging bones.

It was exactly as he remembered. 20 years had past since he'd been gone and away and not a bloody thing had changed. Stomping his cigarette out with the toe of his leathered boot, the man began to walk towards the east end of town.

It was time to see if he couldn't scare up some old friends and give the locals something to talk about, behind the closed doors of this "good community".

From the lower branches of a nearby tree, the bird looked on with interest.

Boggy Sanders, was back. How very odd. How very odd indeed.


[This message has been edited by Poets (edited August 15, 2001).]