Cold moon murmur by Annie Cowell
As the moon lifts her swollen self
into the dulling sky,
some ancient stirring pulls me
to the wilderness, where, like an augur,
I root myself beside the reeds
and watch for auspices.
The air buzzes, crackles with interference
then breaks like waves on a pebble beach.
A squalling mass of starlings flood the sky,
each an equal note in the movement. They bend
and twist; first a dark sun eclipsing the moon,
now a swan, a funnel, a fish -
pixelating the dusk with calligraphic messages.
We are connected;
the beating of their wings, the dance, the song
the beating of my heart,
a fluttering signal.
Annie grew up in a tiny fishing village on the north east coast of England which dates back to before the Norman Conquest. After a career in publishing and recruitment, she switched to teaching when her children were born. She now lives by the sea in Cyprus with her husband and rescue dogs and writes whenever she can. She has poems published or forthcoming in Popshot Quarterly, Paddler Press, Gastropoda, and others. She is a BOTN 2022 nominee. Her debut chapbook Birth Mote(s) was published by Alien Buddha Press in July 2022 and her second chapbook, Splashing Pink, is forthcoming with Hedgehog Press in 2023.