Painting by Cathleen Cohen.
Murmuration
Â
Have you ever witnessed starlings
swirl above landscape,
scattering souls over
pale, winter grasses
in cramped, suburban yards
like mine? The shock
might wobble your heart.
I stare as a thousand tiny birds
slant toward sunlight,
mimic roofs and branches,
bloom into clouds
and blessings.
They spread like open fingers
spelling out questions
then contract
into a line, a siphon into
breath. Pause.
I pray they’ll soon reappear
above another landscape.
Although I’m not a scribe,
I stay up all night to paint
what I recall – traces.
