Murmurs

Mutterings, grumbles, murmurs
of starlings
soar past my window;
a cut-out, a Polaroid, an impenetrable
portal to the world beyond mine.
Soft skies,
blue and pink and white, 
interwoven, interlocked, imbedded
in one another,
whilst the gliding gull frolics through the mist.

~ written 5th December 2025