Tags
becoming, bliss, connection, faith, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, nature, passion, reason, restless, spirit, spirituality, starlings, truth, understanding, wandering, wonder
black ballerinas
of feathered acclaim –
swim as ten thousand
prayers
come to light
songs of surrender –
psalms of just now
I knew
as you knew
where the night
would fall down
to swirl
as a memory
almost forgot –
when held for too long
in the gentle
somehow
scratched into cedar
carved into word –
laced by the leaving
to turn
one more time
the dawn into
slowing –
a pausing of truths
swept as a shutter –
of black angel wings
– one in their beating
eternities here
are folded the sky
– as a rush
into flight
. . .
tornadoday 
Beautiful, Bobbie! For evermore, each time I see the swirling starlings in the sky they will be black ballerinas… and I will think of your words.
I really loved this poem… it spoke to me. xx
O, thank you, Angela. They are certainly fascinating thing to watch. There have been mornings where I’ve sat on the porch and watched the trees fill with them……until they become a black nest. And then………one little tremor, and the entire sky errupts…….. Sweet beautiful miracles of nature. How could anyone ever doubt the presence of a greater power. Surely, beauty of that magnitude could never be attributed to chance. Thank you, Angela. Love to you ~ Bobbie
Indeed, Bobbie. They are spectacular to watch. I remember watching them standing at the top of a hill over -looking Glastonbury, UK – they were an awesome and ethereal sight. Love to you too x
….such is a window into the perfect imperfect patterns of the universe……love flows…..
Good Grief !!!!! This reminds me of the flocks of redwing blackbirds that used to destroy the cornfields when I was a kid. Used to fire a shotgun over the fields just to chase them away (over to the neighbors fields, but they always made their way back to ours). There were thousands of them – maybe tens of thousands and they came in flocks that would shadow the ground like a cloud. Curiously pretty birds but destructive as a forest fire. I’d almost forgotten about them. …and they are not ballerinas !!! The poem was nice, Bobbie, and thanks for the memories. ~xo~
Paul
They’re actually Starlings and while I find them fascinating, I know just what you’re saying. I grew up in the country. My daddy loves everything, but he hates Starlings. They’ll kill other birds, destroy their nests and throw out the babies. They’re vicious things, even if their waves are pure magic…….. Thank you, Paul. ~ Much love, Me