Yellow Arrow Vignette | AWAKEN
Avian Rhythms
Cynthia Trenshaw
In a single blink of dusk
a thousand starlings incarnate,
black blooms exploding
on the limbs of canyon oak,
without a pause in
chattered conversations
begun wherever they departed
just a breath ago.
They settle soon, as evening does,
feathery still and dark.
Sighing, I gather up my day
and pillow it beneath my head.
Through the night, in throaty voice,
owl softly asks her koan: “who-o,
dear one, are you?”
In meditative pondering
and unremembered dreams
her question occupies my mind
till dawn has drawn the line
where day begins to grow,
and sunlit starlings rise as one,
disperse like scattered seeds
of dark sown into light.