Starling Migration

Can’t tell you how many birds
I saw across the highway?
Thousands, hundreds of thousands,
The sky was pixelated with birds.
Every cloud was like a pincushion
Of crammed pinpoints and holes.

From the western sky
Another flock merging with others,
The tail end of that group
Seemed like an endless conduit
Of more and more birds appearing.

To the east, merging flocks
Careen to the right and to the left.
One vast wing made of starlings
Sweeps low across the fields.

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