Truth be told, I’m not a big bird fan. Birds are weird and creepy, and they have mites. Some of them have flat eyes, and legs made of snakeskin. They’re prehistoric. Don’t even get me started on their beaks, feet and talons. If I think about it enough, and especially if I begin to obsess on their dirty bird poop, I get really uncomfortable. I’ve talked about it before- a lot. If you want to revisit my paranoia, go to this post and scroll down:

http://smalleradventure.com/2012/10/numerous-opportunities-for-me-to-reference-myself/

But when they travel all together, in those surreal bird cloud, I remember what the word ‘awesome’ really means, and I’m mesmerized.

Look at that! So cool! They look like whales floating in the deep blue sky, or jelly fish, or the oh’s of Virgina Slim smoke chm chm used to blow when she painted my nails in high school.

I’ve tried to take a thousand pictures of them, but they’re tricky little bastards, so fast and ephemeral.  I did write this poem:

Fearless Symmetry

 

Maybe they do it

For the fun of fractaling

Eschering

Kaleidoscoping a peacock plume sky

Herding Marie Antoinette’s pink lamb clouds home

Surfing a Hokusai wave

 

They like to see themselves cartwheeling the air

Turning on a talon

Willowed ballerinas bent

In the moon’s curve

Chins pointed north

Beaks to the stars

Wing tips fluttering

 

A military formation

Parade of regiments

The march of mirror images

Showcasing snapstep precision

That’s some fancy featherwork

Flap flap turn

Flap flap glide

 

Tic toc keys

Unlocking invisible planes

They slip

Into the eyelash slit of dimension

Tessellating heaven

 

Maybe they do it to baffle me

Englassed, ensteeled, enclosed

Inhaling the insidious exhaust

Of collective commuter angst

 

They laugh

Caw, caw, caw!

When, mesmerized,

I miss the light

Hypnotized by a dazzling spiral

Gray Hitchcockian blur that splits

Angry cloud into fat raindrops

Death defying Wallendas on electric lines

 

They laugh, pointing with their feathers

They mock me,

Cackling, clucking their disapproval

Pitying my heavy legs

 

In my sterile climate controlled bubble

I stare transfixed,

Smiling

They rise in unison, enticed by a breeze

Black fluttering arrow, pointing north

 

Car horns Aaoogaa

Vibrato with scorn

Those who missed the show

Red faces furied

Force my attention back to the road

A dozen AK47 eyes

Shooting me the bird

 

This post is dedicated to my beautiful, graceful cousin, Robin. Soar, cousin!