That pass so quickly
What they mean
I can only guess.
I think they may be starlings,
Redwings, hued things with feathers
Iridescent on their backs
Who flock to feed on flowered trees,
Swirling through the harsh blue sky,
Giving the lie to winter,
Adoring spring in all its
Fragile and intimidating glory.
©2013 John I. Blair