Two Poems by Sam Lewis

Starlings
       When the corn is down 
    and the fields lay brown
  starlings flock together. 
     Wheeling and turning
         turning and churning
             they dart 
 as one,
                    disappearing 
                    and 
         reappearing
    across the 
  autumnal sky.
   They move 
         In a 
              cloud  
                      called a 
                                  murmuration. 

Dunes
In the hot summer 
On the beach side 
Of the great gray Atlantic
We marched through 
White drifts
Our tanned bare feet
Causing 
Avalanches of
Cool soft shifting sand 
Amid the pale sea oats
Fearful we would step 
On a sand spur
In a foot path worn
Through the winding valley of 
The towering white dunes
Toward the sounds of the 
Crashing surf.