Creaky Wings

This year's fall came as something sooner Still warm, but a strong wind blows all somewhere in the usual places. Trees figure out which way to bend them – or against the wind At such a time you want to get up on tiptoes, stretch creaky wings, stiff and dusty from a standstill and happy to wave them as if ready for further flight and flicking them with all the unnecessary, accumulated over the summer. And then, quietly pushed off, a few powerful, but still a bit heavy strokes to climb. Looking around the neighborhood, opening its beak and something loud and slurred cry a little invitingly, a bit sad, a little for their own . And then, overflights of the circle and never waiting for an answer, go to the landing at the former place, and gently landed, ran a few yards out of inertia, put the wings and once again cry out loud the whole neighborhood, as if to confirm its successful outreach and still hoping for an answer And the answer is no. But the wind still strongly warns about something vague, but vaguely disturbing and a desire to fly somewhere, at a breakneck pace to warm slowly disappears. And it wants to simply and quietly, without hurriedly to dig themselves a den, a spacious, bright, you can double, thoroughly insulate it, and a little povorochavshis to find the most comfortable position to sleep soundly bright, light, lethargy. And sleep so until the spring without stopping and not irritated by little things Sh-sh-sh Already the wind somewhere far away All sleep-th-at .