Dusk at Slapton Ley

What a constant, urgent chirping from the rushes!
Hundreds of starlings, their voices all so loud
and louder with each fresh wave, each successive cloud,
their wings skimming grasses, as they landed.

I'd hoped to see their sky-high, dancing flight:
a murmuration painting a shapely path.
Too late, instead I heard its aftermath -
the chatter of starlings, largely out of sight.

The sun had set; daylight all but gone,
yet still more came on muted-thunder wing
to swell the voices' volume, and to bring
a warmth to marshland with their evening song.

© Celia Warren 2016

I took these photos by holding my camera high above my head and hoping. I hope they convey something of the feathery masses among the marshy grasses. Afterwards, as it had grown quite dark, I crossed the road to walk back along Slapton Line to my car. Even from the other side of the road, I could still hear the starlings' chirruping.