Driving down a backroad in desolate Apulia, a black cloud of birds formed behind a hill-- It became two then one again in dynamic flight, resolving into specks and finally, graceful darts of life. In the air: Swerving, splitting, rejoining. Aware of each and all, a synchronous response to a secret call.
A wave in motion, a flowing organism, never repeating but ever the same. We stopped and looked with wonder-- How do they do that? And why?
A lightning bolt: Is it a protest? Pesticides?
What would we do when topsoil blows, oceans rise, food is scarce, and wells run dry? Probably nothing as organized- or beautiful.