Brown, swooping past my window.

Streaking, dancing, two stories up.

A call, not of pain follows.

Again and again,

the wings beat outside.

'Open the shades' I think.

I do.

The call sounds again,

a sound from one to another,

a sound replaced by a second nearby.

An answer.

Two sets of wings outside my window.

Ones I'll ever forget,

For they are One.