Painting the Sky

[TranquillityBase]

i. Painting the Sky
It comes into view
in near slow motion-
a startling scene, sublime
formations- stunning
starling murmuration.              I was going to object to murmuration, but luckily I looked it up and learned it also means "a flock of starlings".  Who'da thought?  Not me.

It defies all sense
of gravitation, shape shifting
clouds whose permutations
whirl, and weave
a fascination.    Lovely opening stanzas here.  This second one is sublime.


ii. Simple Pleasures
What a pleasing thing
it is to see this sweeping
airborne artistry
being painted
with a swirling brush.   I guess I am missing one thing in these opening stanzas: starlings being black on the blue (or gray, depending on the weather) sky.  Like ink.

I guess it was just lucky
me, observing
wordless poetry
of October skies
at dusk.


iii. Putting Down the Brush
They settle on the trees
like dust, but then focus            I was also going to object to "like dust", but the more I read it, and think it through, the more appropriate it seems.
all their concentration
on much raucous
conversation.

Then call, by call
til none at all, their noises
fade to the silence
of cold night-
fall.                             Wonderful ending.

Mark, 

Awesome poem.  I happen to have a special love for starlings (partly probably their name, but mostly the aspects you delineate here).  This poem is not only visually very satisfying, but exceptional in its use of rhyme.  It's been a while since you posted, so maybe that is part of the pleasure, but this seems like one of your best.

They've yet to show up here in Texas; now I'm really going to be watching for them.

A few line responses above.

TqB