Blackbirds at Twilight

In the orchid-sky I see them rise
From the oak branches
And lift as one scattering wing
Toward some lonesome star
Before setting themselves in the field
For feeding.

Such dissonant creatures of hive-mind:
Something in their periphery has flashed like gunmetal:
Now as I throw a stone into the yard
Hear the great chaotic frenzy silenced.
See them ascend into the purpling
Transitional light.

Their eyes of obsidian are tacked against
The regal blue-blackness of their bodies.
Caught in the vacuum of avian aloofness,
Of multi-faceted, collected singularity,
Do they detect me standing under
The glowing porchlight, now moth-collected?

To feel what they feel
For a moment: to lift on autumn’s dusk
And, when not feeding, to simply live
Aloft in bird-transience.
They move through branches
Like broken shards of onyx through a rushing stream.
 

William Wright