a tail for a story

harmony on the wing

I have been watching

Tiny birds in the tree with long thin tails.

They fly in undulating waves.

They don’t sing like the others,

They make a clicking sound, like pebbles that clink

They have black neat wings

A bit of a red belly

Or is it pink?

I love these subtle, neat little parcels of air.

Their tails are thin as pencils

Tapered like the long hand on the clock that’s handed down.

Their tails are poised at an elegant angle

Ready for the story.

I am sure they have to fly in waves because of these long tails,

That weigh a half a gram too much

But it doesn’t seem to bother them,

No complaints.

They are in a group sharing the olive tree.

They get on with life quietly,

I am sure they are friends,

Always watching,

Each one seems to have the other’s back.

Unlike us,

Their awareness is bigger than they are.

I am sure they are not looking for the meaning of life.

They seem wise enough

To know

They are life.

Their pencil tails

Tick to the seconds

And before I know it

They have vanished like time

wishes @naturetorque