The Creative Works of Andrea Freeman
Murmuration of Starlings
Today, they came again ~
the dark-winged Gypsies,
pouring over the hills
in all directions
hearing dusk’s call to dance.
They glided in as speckled gusts of wind
then swirled together, en masse, across the sky
moving as both a particle and a wave;
they wove the air
into a tapestry of wings;
they painted the air
with each brushstroke of wing
in great sweeping spirals
of synchronized movement
bursting forth and resolving.
No leader to point the way,
they listened to each other
and the current that flows within,
moving as one,
never missing a beat.
With acrobatic grace they spun and twirled,
swinging on aerial trapeze without strings,
above the rolling ridge, horizon to horizon,
as the trees in audience spotted from below.
Coiling and uncoiling ~
A nebula sung into being out of interstellar beaks and wings ~
now a galaxy of Starlings
shining upon the pink and lavender space of an evening,
as the sun set off to light the other side of the world.
As I watched them, formed out of stardust myself,
I considered how foolish it is to think we ever stand alone.
“Feel the wind of grace encircling you now,” they called out to me.
The cloak of separation fell from my shoulders to the ground.
“Unfurl your sacred longing like wings!
In celebration of the present,
ride the waves
of joy unfolding,
as we fly together across the sky.”
This is the way ice melts
and how water quenches thirst.
The Starlings fly like this at dusk.
© 2012 Andrea Freeman