The Murmuration
The Starlings gather in flight,
A sight for longing eyes, the quartz cluster
grazes the changing skies,
Charcoal moss upon a cloudy wall,
They sweep the air as they fall into
cascading emerald tides,
Suspended in the breeze like puppets on their strings,
They compliment each other through the winds,
With the promise to protect each other
from passing threat.
Inhale, exhale.
As the dusk sets in again
the amber takes another blackened breath,
Each their own but also
belonging to the flock. They are home.
As a billow of gypsies, they roam
the calmly cobbled skies,
Until the darkness crawls from the earth to the moon
and the flock settle on trodden ground,
With the promise to keep each other warm
through bitter nights.
Inhale,
Exhale.
Through lonely days and even lonelier nights,
We dream of the sight of the murmuration,
And whisper quiet courageous thoughts,
Because we all long to live as Starlings do.
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