Crunching onto rime-hatted ground
Crackling underfoot, sound waves
Rippling through me, cold
Reverberating in my ear drums –
Sound waves; a winter susurration
Glancing up –
A thousand whispering wings
Soughing as the wind,
The scything virgule
Of October’s leaf-fall harvest.
A writhing, gyring vortex:
Helix, double helix, helix…
A murmuring murmuration
A living hive of DNA
Spinning, cavorting, whipping
In eddies and counter-currents
Stable yet unstable
Chaotic yet ordered
Tribal yet singular –
Away then, over the ice-tipped field
In a playful, whooping migration
Before dissolving as vapour
Will-o-the-wispish, dreamlike
Ethereal, lost
Into the Needwood
And the tree-spiked horizon.
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