Peeling Away

Peeling Away

In a flock of black
ribbon, the starlings
leave me. More like bats
or black bees, they dance,
performing in sync.

Sweeping the grey sky
like softly feathered
ballerinas, their
song, a murmuring
above the pier.

Carried quietly
outwards, waves follow
the birds, listening
to the lunar pull.
They froth as they roll.

A shell, a cavity, once
home to a hermit,
fills its deep belly
with whispers, secrets,
softly says, ‘goodbye.’

In the salty spray,
I clutch my notebook;
letters and words drip
from soggy pages.
Poe try
aw    a