Flock

Dec 21 2019

The sky was dark with birds.

Sleek black darts

that wheeled and turned,

flashing through the air

with breath-taking speed

magnificent grace.

As if each were a cell

in a single animal

whose sum exceeds its parts.

Until a bird of prey

scatters them

and they frantically sling-shot apart.

No longer weightless

I can see their hard-working wings

the thinness of air,

a flicker

of indecision

fleet as it is.

How unforgiving

a single bird.

More than the stillness

of the clear blue sky,

it's the quiet

that leaves me unnerved.

This picture accompanied a piece in today's New Yorker website. It's not the ideal picture to demonstrate the flocking of birds. But as soon as I saw it, this poem started to write itself. So I'm including it here not to illustrate or reinforce the poem, but simply to give some insight into my creative process.