The edge began crossing outside

the window and then the whole

body of the flight of hundreds,

maybe a thousand starlings came

into sight, their descent to the ground

making the earth come alive with

their feeding and then the sudden

unison of rising up as if one body

and the sound of a whirlwind strong

then fading as they flew in their coordinated

dance of flight. I could not help but think

of the manna that fell from the sky

to feed the people in exile, the whimsical

act divine that kept them alive,

felt the hope from exile arise,

watched the starlings in the sky

until they disappeared to some

other set of eyes ready to see.