Big-flaked, squall-driven westward, down they flutter
To set a clump of cottonwoods a-sputter
With cold black fire! And once again, some shock
Of sight or sound flings panic in the flock—
Gray boughs exploding in a ruck of birds!
What augury in orniscopic words
Did yon swart sibyls on the morning scrawl?
Now broke abruptly through the clacking brawl
A camp-dog’s barking and a pony’s neigh;
Whereat a running nicker fled away,