M omma says. Dust catches in their feathers, the wind is too strong. How do they make their nests if they're afraid, teacher says they collect string and how will they get the string. Hush, Momma says. We must stay quiet, listen for the truck. Momma pulls me onto her lap and brushes my hair. Pulls it into a pony's tail then takes it out again. My ears are sore when will Daddy be back, I ask. Momma starts braiding with my favorite blue ribbon. Soon, she says, watching the dust hit the window like tiny pieces of glass. Outside there is a great big howling. How do the birds fly in a V. She says, they have a leader that stays in front and the others know to stay behind, no part higher than another. Do they each have their own nest or do they know how to share. Momma gets stiff. Did you hear something. I tumble off her lap as she runs to the door. A sucking noise, she is pulling hard. Neighborman on the porch he says I'm sorry ma'am, his truck hit a tree but we have to wait until the storm stops. I rip out my favorite blue ribbon and pound pound pound down the steps. Dust in my nose and ears and eyes I can't breathe but the birds might see the blue and over the howling I hear oh no, oh no, oh no.