Murmur Murmur

Well, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it? But here I am, back in Stanza-land, and what better way to come back than a writing prompt from the folks at dVerse? Today, Sarah challenges us to choose from a number of paintings by artist Lee Madgwick, and use the painting as inspiration for an original poem.

I will post the painting below, but first, the poem.

Murmuration:
Murmuration refers to the phenomenon that results when hundreds, sometimes thousands, of starlings fly in swooping, intricately coordinated patterns through the sky.

NPR.org

Murmur Murmur

Murmur, murmur, murmuration.
Endless swirling iterations.
By what compelled? No explanation.
I won’t venture speculation.

Like pointillistic illustration,
a thousandfold their compilation.
As one they dance their presentation,
and none claim “leader” designation.

At dusk they merge, no hesitations;
mingling, calling salutations.
This roiling mass staves off predation
as they scope night’s destination.

Starling flock cooperation;
flights that defy computation.
I murmur my appreciation.
Murmur, murmur, murmuration.


Murmuration, by Lee Madgwick

Just One

For Cee’s Black and White photo Challenge (CBWC): just one of anything.

I thought I heard a hawk of some sort the other day, so I stepped out on the deck to look for it. This squirrel was balled up on a nearby branch, maybe trying to make himself invisible to the bird of prey.

The bird that was making all the ruckus finally flew to the same tree, but it wasn’t a hawk at all. I’m thinking it was one of those tricky fellows that can mimic other bird calls. Good enough to fool both the squirrel and me!

Five Things


Bloganuary prompt: What are five things you are grateful for today?

I am grateful that I woke up to a rosy sunrise,

And for the beauty of early morning frost

Oh, wait… time out!

I started this post yesterday, but then woke up this morning to rain. No problem; I’m grateful for today’s rain, and how it plays with reflections on my deck.

I’m grateful that most of my native plants survived the heat dome of last summer….

and I’m grateful that Mother Earth is better at growing sword ferns than I am.