Here to listen, here to see
Evening in summer. Warm winds, warm sky. A flock of starlings were on the way from nowhere.
Here they came, as flying black dots across warm sky. They came towards silver birch and some went to the right. They fell upon birch like leaves. The others went in circle curling round south side and fell there upon birch like leaves. Silver birch could stand them all. When all were there settled they began singing. Silver birch tree of one hundred singing starlings.
Another flock was on the way, again as flying black dots across red evening sky. Here they came to same birch and some went to left. They fell upon birch like leaves. The others went in circle curling round north side and fell there upon birch like leaves. Silver birch could stand them all. When all were there settled they began singing. Silver birch tree of two hundred singing starlings.
Silver singing birch tree. As one song. How wonderful. Here to listen, here to see. A singing tree of evening summer.
She knew birch and starlings for first time.
Starlings stopped the song. With whooshing like wind they blew out of birch and lifted up into red of sky together and together all as one bird, arcing in a bowed line, flushed on warm winds of air, to then split in two with one half sweeping to right of sky the other to left.
Up, up they were going, disappearing to left and right, two halves disappeared as whole sky for some moments, no longer seen, no longer heard.
Silver birch still, here standing still, going nowhere.
Before long, same starlings were returning, down, down they were coming, appearing to left and right as flying black dots arcing in a bowed line and fell, together and together as one into same silver birch like dropped leaves again. They began song and silver birch was singing starling tree yet again.
How long had it been evening?
As long as she had been here to listen here to see
