Solidarity

The streets are empty, save a mannequin abandoned on the pavement, a gendarme outside the Louvre, a shiver of wind on the Seine.

Above, a murmuration of starlings dance in an augury of transcendent myth.

‘They know something we don’t,’ said Pierre, his upper-lip, faintly shaking.

I nodded silently and closed the window as it started to rain.

Shoreditchpoet