for the night, they wing in
to the rookery where others like them
will rest after their daily travels,
or travails, as the case may be,
which, I imagine, for large hunting
birds, might consist of missed
prey, avoiding power lines and
other ravages of mankind that
threaten their survival.
How nice to be gladly received
in a spot that feels like home,
no matter how temporary.
How generous to be welcomed—
or at least accepted—by others,
no matter our differences,
to watch the glorious light fade
on another day bestowed
without ever asking for it,
assuming that there will be
another one rising with
the ever-dependable sun,
that there will be tomorrow.
Güd wrtr 
“that there will be a tomorrow” – it’s lovely to have this certainty, even a sliver of it.
It is, isn’t it? Thank you, Moudi!
Love this! What kind of birds are they? Are they vultures, which I call “peace eagles” because they clean up rather than kill?
First, I love “peace eagles” (aka vultures)… what a great name! Second, I believe that they’re herons, though the photographer didn’t specify the type of bird.
Indeed how welcome to come back to a trusted refuge whether from travels or travails May it Be. thank you Lovely