birds in the sky - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

Starling feathers in the sky, as if dipped in earthen ink, wrote their tale in aviated calligraphy. They sang in heaven’s key, high above the milling crowds: so free, so merry, so blithe. That day they were my heart-scribes, writing the very essence of my soul, the worth of each mortal beat within my chest. How I treasure the simple memories of that simple day. How I treasure the emotions that bade erstwhile doubts adieu. How I treasure the old me who was lost, yet is now found. In the gentle winds of spring, in the expanse of one breath, my heart was reborn a starling; with my soles upon a quilt of green, as they graced the blue, my wings opened wide.

Oh darling feathered aeronauts, salve to every soul scratch and scar, do challenge your bonny range. For you sky-dance from high to higher, from lofty altitude to loftier still, and I am rendered in happiest awe. How my dreaming eye traces your air-path, the trail you skip upon with ease, writing your angelic script. Such is the attitude of the avian kind. The world, busy in its business may miss the enormity of your feats, but daily I see. I do. I witness. I love. So upon divine outstretched wings, glide and ride the free updrafts. Take your ease when you may and realise full-well how you’re adored.

And to the sky a host of our feathered friends took, their bandages falling as the leaves of seasons old. No longer did they perch upon windswept branches but instead made it with each beat. And so instead of a cold howl the air pulsed, wafted as if from an unseen concertina fan.

The birds in the sky were music for the eyes, moving in choreographed melody.

Here come the birds to begin the ballet of the eventide.

The birds flew through that ever developing canvas of the dawn, as if their wings were fine quills, drawing such buoyant hues. Those wings in that sky became the colours of my dreams and whenever I needed a memory to lift me off the ground, they were there.

White heaven-bound birds were as brilliant rays from wind-dappled sea-water; their brightness amid otherwise infinite blue, gliding as free souls. In each wing-given arc they were the tips of a conductor's wand, a music for both eyes and soul, bringing a wave of sweet earthly joy.

The birds in the sky danced for one another and we watched, the happy and appreciative audience.

The birds began playful swoops in an oceanic blue sky.