Starling Song

I am simultaneously too much all at once

and too little, too late.

I came hurdling out of the darkness,

startled starling shudder of wings.

I am operatic ranges of starving bird pitch,

hunger battle cry in the bamboo forest.

I am shadows and sunlight,

glinting through the woody overgrowth.

Delicate and sharp as a needle

hanging by a thread

and slipping from your grip.

I am common ground and a sure footing

with backwards glances, a grumble of reluctance.

I am the perfectly executed pirouette

dangling from a fishing line mobile.

© Laura A. Lord, 2022

Thank you to MindLoveMisery for the prompt.