Its small form gradually gets bigger as it swoops lower and lower, approaching its target. The trees scarcely decorating the parking lot cut off line of sight as the ground approaches rapidly. Landed perched on the open lid like an ornate flag topper. Its eight-foot wingspan allowing it to lord over the large dumpster with peeling blue paint and regulations stuck to every side. Wrinkled neck cranes back and forth trying to keep its entire hoard in view. But beady black eyes catch sight of the approaching forms.

Its body betrays its fear with wings flinching inward at every step. Before long, its tense form cowers into itself up on its throne. Its body turns slightly away, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Huge beats of its wings send it flying into the safety of nearby trees. Its skulking silhouette disapproves of its dethronement, hanging over the scene like regret.

Waiting to reclaim, waiting to be forgotten.