No Supper For A Year Poem by Donal Mahoney

My wife looks out the kitchen window
and tells me the starlings are back,
the same big flock as yesterday

strolling around our yard
eating something in the grass
and she wonders what it is

but then she shouts
something scared them.
They all flew away

like a squadron of planes.
She says it's a beautiful thing
to see them fly off in a rush

all at the same time
all at the same speed
and not run into each other.

I sip my coffee and say
it's easy when it's all males.
No women drivers.