Blackbirds struggle in desperation
Circle over the blue river
Across green pastures
Now the worms death-bed
Fallen berries
Work in the cycle of decay.
They cut a path through the gorge
Bracketed by the mountains
Anemic trees on either side
Their habits and instincts
Endowed by what they cannot label.
In the wayward meaning of loss
And success they leave the climbing snow
For New Zealand or Africa
In liaison with the seasons
Warble in variations
As they crowd the sky.
What did you think
Comments
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nicely done, the urgent cycle of fall migration. We have been watching the ravens flock lately and hearing their craws.
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