Starlings
Kaleidoscope an entire sky,
Glissands of sweeping and swirling,
Fine muslin hung from the hand of a ballerina,
In a pirouette,
The folds unfolding,
Or cream stirred in coffee,
Each cold clotted molecule following the next.
Shoals of fish,
The random non-random sense of it.
A scientist I trust once explained to me
That the phenomenon which appears to be so
Beautifully coordinated by a conductor or by God,
Could in fact be governed by very simply rules,
Such as when the bird in front moves,
Offset your movement by a fraction of an inch to theirs.
I am not sure I mind.