The Veiled Tints Of Blackbirds Poem by Sonny Rainshine

They roost upon the railing, stentorian.
Laser-eyed sentries scanning the vista,
they will guard the nest on the roof
‘til the last hatchling gets its wings.

Not crows nor ravens
and curiously not black,
though at first glance that’s the shade
that registers on my sight:
no these are smaller, neater,
and do not caw-caw-caw,
but cast soprano notes
into the chilly, late spring air,
songs not nearly so dark
as the shadows in their wings.

If you look more closely,
beyond the inky textures of the feathers,
irridescent emerald and orchids and yellows,
like gold dust in the stream glint and glimmer,
fine applique on shimmering velvet.

It’s rather disconcerting, isn’t it,
to discover that what we first perceive
is not always what’s there.
Though the fundamental whole
is only the sum of its parts,
sometimes the parts themselves
are whole universes.