A poem by Michael Edwards, from To Kindle the Starling, 1972, First and Last Things
and a photo of blazing feathers, taken par Eric S. in our garden, Friday afternoon,
a she-starling so they say.
...
together
but for
seconds only as
each
makes for a
spot to
comfortably
hook each
toe
to a twig.
...
A black
starling
swayed on a winter branch
at a sudden
sun-shot
flaring
green and red.
...
Above our talk
in the high cold
miracle
brilliants
the blazing stars
the night makes
visible.

A Noël,
tels un vol d’étourneaux
affamés,
On se retrouve tous
pour festoyer ;
Puis chacun retourne bien vite
s’agripper à sa branche,
On n’sait jamais,
des fois qu’elle s’échapperait
en notre absence.