They blew in fast to the low slung tree hung fat
with beachball-orange fruitlets, a bickering gang of starlings--
little stars-- dining after their own fashion fastidiously,
preferring the mash fermenting on the grasses
to the firm fruits strung upon the leaf-bare branches.
They swilled their modest fill, before flying off on cue,
from one ripe paradise above the Westside Highway

Smack in the center of this parade