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Black Birds

Category: Eve Moore Tuesday, 21 April 2020 Written by Eve Moore Views: 1749

Black Birds

The grackles

are returned to this

stretch of eastern shore,

nesting now in the aged lush

of hedgerowed

yews.

Starlings

too, have arrived,

feeding voraciously,

squabbling as furiously,

over the plenty

offered in

bowls—

odd,

this.

For

on wing it's

another story,

a magical story,

taking to air

cohered

extrasensorily

pitching and darting,

seemingly seamlessly

responding one to another

— body, mind, spirit —

one consciousness

rising, rising,

spilling

and pooling,

a vast corps de ballet,

shoals blooming,

unblooming,

wheeling

the wild blue

in such concert,

painting synchrony

in great murmurating

mesmerizations,

dark clouds

gathering

to slake

earth’s

deep

thirst

make

beauty

out of

thin

air.

Heavenly,

this art of work

showing me what I

could not see so clearly before:

myself, my kind, our bind

in this unbecoming,

becoming

whole.

A gift

freely given

as they simply make

and unmake

their way.

I once saw

only the dark of you,

I am loth to admit, through

the trained lens of classification

rather than dilation,

blackbird.

Now I see

your stars, starling,

spectrums blazing an oasis of night,

refractions of spangled brilliance

your feathered silks

cast on my

willing

gaze.

I find

turquoise

of your crown

now grackle, bright

gold of eye piercing worlds I can

only imagine, purples splayed with bronze,

emeralds gleam hidden

in the gloss of your

plumes sparked

by a stray

glint

of sun.

You

are not

merely

black

birds.

You

sheen

rainbows

of wonder

— revelation —

now I see you

in the light

of this

day.

You are

heralds,

emissaries

of a new

peace

with

the

dark

that lies

waiting to

be seen

anew.

For

god lies

somewhere

under

your

rainbows.

…Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of a dark black night...

—Paul McCartney, John Lennon

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all…

—Emily Dickinson

© 2020 by Eve Moore.
© Photo by Arnold Edwards.

Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well.

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix

This poem was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.

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ॐ Namasté - Blessings!
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