At dusk, perched on the lines,

Honing barbs, passing time,

They seem to pose a threat.

But is it real? Are they?

We wait for them to move;

What do they have to prove?

They could stay where they are,

Or take themselves away.

The sight of them entwines

Round our unease, and yet

For now they crouch and mime

Today’s events. That said,

They sense what lies ahead,

Let’s not push them too far.