End of November
four short poems
End of November
Morning haze burning off—
the cross
on the steeple gleams.
***
Starlings (one mind
radiating throughout
a thousand wings)
contract and expand
over a vacant church
like a plastic bag
whipped by wind.
***
Red as a warning,
a winterberry shrub
flashes through the gaps
between coils
of dormant grapevines.
***
In the dying light
a yellow leaf
clings.
"...one mind/radiating throughtout/a thousand wings..." Eff you, Joseph Massey for your vision! Damn it! Hahahahahahah! So good.
Gorgeous, especially the starlings poem. They are a sight to behold. When I lived in Virginia, they would descend on my lawn in a huge group, and fly off the same way. Your description is so perfect.