Birds in the backyard..

There are a hundred blackbirds in my backyard
Each one picking grains
Are they free to fly the direction they want
Or does somebody control that
Are they free to feel the wind in their wings
Or is the flapping of their wings restricted
My breath is creating a haze on the glass door
The image blurs
The door to my backyard is locked
The keys..
I run my fingers over the glass door
The birds have flown, flapping their wings away...