I’d forgotten about the starlings –
had drowned their raucous cacophonies
in the deepening days of August
until just now, the noisome rush
plummeted into the honey locust,
whose yellow is now heavily inked
by the sudden weight of wings
© Sarah Whiteley
ebbtide 
Yes, that says Starlings to me – beautiful birds, so misunderstood. I love to watch murmurations whirling to roost in the evening sky. Nice poetry, thank you for the reminder!
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my first reading was marked by an image of black and yellow slamming into each other. my second reading focused on “plummeted,” and in the next reading i got caught by “inked.” violence and beauty.
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