Bless the Starlings

author’s note:

I don’t think they like me either.


BLESS THE STARLINGS

Yesterday I woke at dawn
with a sense of disturbance.
Looking out the window
I then saw the cause:

a hundred starlings loitered in my yard.

A foul fowl in my opinion:
traveling in herds, they shove out all the other birds.
Arrogant.  Ignorant.  Belligerent.
Their voices always full of complaint.

So I waved my arms
and shooed those devils away.

But they merely circled round
and settled back down on my lawn.

So again I waved and shouted.

Only to see the flock return moments later
with dozens more in its defiant chorus.

After two more tries
I finally said with a sigh:
“Okay you feathered fiends, you win.”

Then went inside.

But I could still hear
the racket of that flock—
the fidgety fluttering, the raspy chattering.

But what could I do?

I saw no other option
but to fall back on my bed
and try to accept what I’d rejected.
Maybe I could become accustomed
to the torture.
Then my anger might unclench its fist
and I would know calm within.

And indeed—
as I endured patiently
I felt the ruckus slowly settle down
to a dull innocuous murmuring.
Yes, I achieved a relative peace.

Then suddenly all grew still
both inside and out.

I realized the starlings had fled.
By surrendering, I’d won.

But that vacuum was soon filled
as my inner monologue began again—
amplified now by the quiet.

That spiel spills out
with hardly a pause
during my waking hours.
Sometimes the words come from
an elevated place.
But more often the words come
from a place lower down.
That’s not what I want to hear from myself.
But I haven’t found a way
to shut that base voice down.

Sometimes I’ll stop
and shoo that noise away.
But too soon the disturbance returns.

Yeah—
just like those starlings on my lawn yesterday.

My opinion of the species
remains pretty much the same
and yet, I bless them now—

through those birds perhaps I’ve learned
a way to come to terms
with that lowdown being inside of me
fighting for survival.

Listening to Silence: poetry book
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© 2025, Michael R. Patton

A Brief Reprieve

author’s note:

And that’s probably more than you want to see.


A BRIEF REPRIEVE

I wanted to feel what the poets feel
when they say:
I am a child of nature.

So I decided to go to the forest alone
and throw off all my clothes.
I wanted to feel at one with
all the trees and rocks and birds and squirrels.

But as I began to disrobe
a stern voice within me said:
“Though your skin be bare
  underneath you’ll still wear
  the suit of your civilized self.”

After a thoughtful pause
I then answered,
“Well, maybe so.
  But I’ll tell you why I’m going to try:

“As children, sometimes we’d dress up
  and pretend to be adults.
  That harmless fantasy
  would give us a brief reprieve
  from the frustrating smallness of childhood.”

“Now, in adulthood
  I often feel frustrated
  by the smallness of this civilized suit.

“But maybe today I can get a brief reprieve
  by throwing off my outer armor
  and pretending to be
  a child of nature
  frolicking naked in a forest garden.”

mythsteps · a brief reprieve

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© 2025, Michael R. Patton

The Grand Temple

author’s note:

Does a comet realize it’s bright?


THE GRAND TEMPLE

Years ago, I visited a temple
prompted by my cat-like curiosity

and the light I found inside dazzled me.

Nonetheless, I did not stay—
I wanted to see what
the next temple might bring.

And to my delight
in the next I also found
the light of many jewels—
the same light just arrayed differently.

But no, I did not stay—
I wanted to know
if I could find more.

I traveled that path for a year—
finding jewels of light in so many temples
and some of what I found
stayed with me
after I moved on.

And so, I gradually grew brighter.

Then one day an old monk
told me of a temple
grander than all the others.

“Where?” I begged to know.
Despite all the light I’d found
I felt a driving need to find more.

“I can not show you,”
  the monk replied.
“But if you keep going
  you’ll eventually discover
  the temple I speak of.”

So of course, I kept going.

But as the days added up to months
and I did not find what I hoped to find
I despaired
of ever finding what I sought.

And so
though I stayed on the road
I felt lost

until the night I stopped
at the small adobe home
of a quiet peasant woman.

When I asked her if she knew
of the grand temple of my search
she did not speak
but led me to the backroom

then blew out the candle.

In the sudden darkness
I found myself surrounded
by a dazzle of diamond light—
so many facets flashing illumination—

moving, swirling around me
like a school of incandescent fish
in water deep black.

Quickly dizzy
from the unexpected spectacle
I nearly swooned.

“Where did you find all this light?”
  I whispered with my heart in my throat.

“I went to the temple within,”
  she said.
“Every day, every night
  I go to the temple within.”

After that evening, I ended my search
and returned home
carrying with me all the jewels
I’d gathered on my harvest trek—
including the fishes gifted to me
by that gifted woman.

All this brilliance helps guide my way
as I try to bring forth
those diamonds of light
hidden in the shadows of that backroom.

mythsteps · grand temple

33 1/3 New Fables & Myths
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© 2025, Michael R. Patton