join ovenbird Starlings in their breeding plumage tell me how they were named. The night sky spills across their spangled breasts and they sing their luminous songs to the morning. I wait to see what light will fall across my shadowed face, what iridescence will spill into my open hands. Take me into the heart of your winged undulation where every shape we make is a mystery before we forge it, where every movement is a response to irrepressible joy. I want to forget that it is possible to be alone. Let my body be cumulus, let me lose the thread of where I end and we begin. 260214 what's it to you? who go blather from