Old Warden church, Bedfordshire
Leaves, dry and brown shades
invisible against the pebbles:
colours and shapes blending.
Perhaps a gentle quivering
in the cold winter breeze.
Then, like an unseen hunter
emerging from their camouflage,
bounding, tumbling,
with somersaults and energy
when caught in a gust
they are away.
Away they go
here, one or two;
there, almost a whole flock
like starlings returning to roost
twisting, turning
following and then
they disappear
blending again to the ground.
Awaiting another breath
to awaken them.
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