Family of a feather

Hop from one tree to another. Our friends shall come again soon. Arriving in their little boat. No later than noon. Hop from tree to tree again. Soon our fun shall begin. Here they come, so bright and bubbly. None of that for me, though. It's gross and ugly. Finally, they're here! And treading up the stairs. Loud footsteps echo as dread can be felt in the air. Yells drop to whispers and fingers fumble. But finally the door opens and friends walk in as a bundle.

Hop from tree to tree, then from tree to sill. Watch our friends as they light a candle. Each disperse and walk away. Each says goodnight to the light of day. One by one, lights go out. One by one, we wait about.

Hop from sill, to door to sill again. Tap, tap, tap, our fun begins. Some wake and others don't. But those who do cower under sheets. Tap and tap again, some get up. Tap and tap again, others do not.

"Hop from sill to the next. These flying birds are nothing but pests. Keep me up all night long. I shall not rest." Said one, standing from his bed. He walks out and down to the kitchen instead. We follow him still, as he makes a meal. Creating a ruckus and making a mess.

Another walks down, holding a knife. A mask on his face and aiming to take a life. Screams could be heard through our dense home. Even we, the birds, did not expect this end. Flying off in all directions, alarming anyone we could of our experience. This man needed to be caught. But what could we do? We only had feathers.

Throughout the night we call for help. Each of our friends, dying with nothing but a yelp. We attach, then we run, but in the morning, it's all done. No more friends and no more fun. Once again we wait for the next one. Hop from one tree to another. Us birds, family of a feather.



Critique is welcome.