Too much, I feel
the vibrant geometry
of all those starlings,
each with their own dance
of effort and immersion.
The skill of dropping in
to links far deeper than the thoughts
in any bird-brain.
Grace manifest,
each feather tilting in a shared cohesion
to lift a bird,
each bird doing the same
to make a beauty never seen again
the same way twice.
And all those birds together
lifting human heads in awe,
forgotten tastes of joy.
Inside, the same shifting,
a fractal community
patterning, pattering
all these wings
and I have kept them caged,
worried about their feeding.
Too much
is just a hole,
a waiting for a key
shaped like love.
with thanks to Occupy Love