"Pookie, look," I say, pointing above the row of brownstones.
Across the soft blue late afternoon sky of a premature spring, a flock of pigeons flying in perfect sync bank over the street and around the spire of the church. Their wings make a quiet shhhhush as they wheel above us, making several passes like one mind spread over a myriad of bodies.
Katie and I stare in wonder for several minutes, Katie with her phone raised, getting it all on video, and I wonder if the tiny mic can capture such a subtle sound
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