Reading Boehme on the Darkest Day of the Year

The following is a poem from my collection Meditations in Times of Wonder and written on a Winter Solstice six years ago or so. I think it while I was also writing The Submerged Reality. A solstice meditation.

Reading Boehme on the Darkest Day of the Year

What is it that causes a flock of starlings, all at once,

To wheel, turn, or tumble in the magnificent breathing

Of their migration, rising from bare oak trees, swamp maples,

And alders, from telephone wires and cracked asphalt,

Falling ont...