A Yorkshire Poet Poet Free verse

The Sound the Sight the Dark Speckled White

In uniform vision flight of angled 
depth and precision.

The breakfast being cooked outside 
on the roof, in a tree, on a bush with 
no emissions! 
The squeaks and bubbles and hisses - 
these sounds you may well miss.
In the blink of an eye they dismiss us, 
disappear away in the distant bliss.

The complex array of tune notes blend 
into the beauty of song. A day has 
begun anew and winter’s marching on.  

The cold crisp air and freezing fog blur 
the weary sight. A glance into the air 
and a fly past will focus your eyes alright!

The bird feeder quiet and alone all night 
now attacked by a flock of darts. In focus 
you can hear them talk and see their 
speckled white on their dark.

The evening falls when darkness calls later 
in the day. The roost site sees a cloud is 
born that moves in a different way. 
Ten thousand or maybe more now perform 
a magical dance. The sky is a their stage 
and the sun set their light as you see this 
movie - you’ll watch it in a trance!

They pass over your head so huge the 
murmuration the sound takes your breath 
away.
That little starling that you saw maybe in 
that crowd, maybe up there today?

The anticipation of the funnel dive and 
then the magic settles for the night.

You’ll remember this for years to come 
and you’ll try to get another sight. 

Nature’s beauty shows up in different 
ways in the dark and in the light. 

But there is a beauty and wonder of 
aerobatic majesty performed most every 
winters night. By birds that produce 
more than a beautiful song - by those 
little starling birds and their plumage of 
dark speckled white.

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