The Starling (Sturnus Vulgaris) Poem by john (called jack) wren

At dusk they gather to amuse
In cloud formation, then diffuse
Into groups for a moment or two
Then gather again to say adieu
These masters of formation flight
Dance in the air for our delight
In a swirling, twirling, mass of noise
Moving in tandem, with balance and poise.
Binding together in dense black clouds
They fill the air like thunderclouds
Then move with haste across the vale
Like charging soldiers at Passchendaele
Even the wind gives a smile
When these birds trip down his aisle
And the setting sun, devoid of boost
Rests himself, while the starlings roost.