Birds of a feather,
Always flock together.

Then there’s the different;
The unique.

Natures design,
Tweaked and refined;

Turning something common,
Expected;

Into one,
Authentically sublime.

A mix of familiar;
New.

Brown and white feathers mix;
An original hue.

Like all rare sights,
Our privilege is fleeting.

To the air, in a rush;
Wings flap; Repeating.

A secret, camouflaged;
Hidden by the swarming flock.

They shift; sway as one,
Against the crimson setting sun.

A glint, bright white;
Flashes through a blur of browns.

Each one, consolidated;
Becomes profound.

Birds of a different feather;
Congregate, meld together.

Before they all,
Fade away.