birds

Starlings

I muse on starlings
not in their evening ghostly murmurs
animating the twilight still
but of a lone bird singing
sweetly just after the dawn
before the early church-bells’ peal
ringing morning changes
in his own devotional calling
across the mist held fields
for the distant love,
soulful ballads drawn
from hope, not lost, not fallen
nor torn from his song.