Starlings In Flight
After peppering a tower of light
the flight froths over.
A bloom of wings falling,
then,
the dark shower
turning as one.
Puddles of sky splash open
speckled by black flint heads.
Wings spume.
Better I don't know
if this dance is choreographed
or a grace
thrown from the very thing
that is flung.
Better a dazzled surmise.
I want only
to feel what those dark foils feel
as they carve out space,
then turn (seeking nothing),
into a spiraling carousel;
as a visual vowel of wonder.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
