Black Birds
- Details
- Written by Eve Moore
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
to
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.
© CrystalWind.ca 2025. All content (articles, imagery, fair use) & design protected. Written permission required for copying. All rights reserved.
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