The Murmuration

Nascent, oblate, not noticed yet by women in canoes

The consanguineous cloud-stippling thickens in synergy

Dilating wind made into a cohesive and disparate funneling feather-vessel

Separate from too dimensional dry corn fields and horizontal hard glass heap of the sea

Or from any dimensions not born to itself

Polishing away our far, strict angles with

Magnificent diffusion comprehended from canoes

The liquid belly schools urges and swells, a pulse that quickens

Before a pattern piercing talon-wrought risk

The fast resolve of the center conveys lobes freshly regenerated

And sharp, ambiguous edges cutting through a space of air purchased with evasion

Stitching through myriad small lives racing from figured catastrophe

Or is it the fluid flourishing of only God, a throbbing massless amoeba proteus

An instant of astute pattern shuttering to make a shape

Insouciant of hawk-blown cavities, filling effortlessly and merging

To an esplanade of dimensionless careering space, a breathing exultation

She soars to an end suffused, projected with joy and a startling union

To be one gravity and rest near the river, near soft plashing

Trembling women homebound from a revelation

©2017 eolon