A drunken fingerprint against the sky

“A distant murmuration of starlings–and yes, that really is the marvelous term for a group of these often-maligned birds–10,000 or more, rolls “like a drunken fingerprint across the sky,” as the poet Richard Wilbur wrote, smudging the dusk horizon with the quickness of a pulsating jellyfish.” (Peter Friederici)

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