In The Winter

In the winter
I wait for summer
and the starlings' murmuration
on a hill in the distance 
that where I live
passes for a mountain.
It is like the smoke
of a fire 
without the flame
or the danger.
I like the way the starlings move
suddenly 
changing directions
and there is no leader.
They have no plans or preparations.
Anyone of them can make the decision
and the whole group follows
in this flowing rearrangement.
And those iridescent colors
like a necklace of spring
is the amorousness of everything.