Birds of a feather

. . . are flocking together in the mulberry trees on Fruit Street outside the MGH where we’re awaiting Momma BH’s release from the PACU. I always am amazed by the roosting behavior of birds in the fall. Such a racket from dusk onward, but as soon as the sun goes down . . . silence. Unlike the smokers, walking their IVs up and down the street as they smoke their cigarettes and yet again pull their johnnies closed.

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