In 1998, I once saw three wild parrots flying swiftly and with purpose in formation over Stevens Creek Boulevard, a busy multi-laned road in Cupertino, California (in the heart of Silicon Valley). Houses stretched for miles in all directions. It was a magical sight. The only conclusion I could draw was that they or their parents had escaped from captivity and that a colony of parrots was thriving there in the interstices of the urban environment. I wrote this poem in response.
I was recently reminded of this sight and my poem by seeing an Atlas Obscura article (with photos) about the wild parrot colonies in San Franciso, California.
I have seen the wild parrots swift in flight
A graceless bird on land transformed on wing
A triad’s focused flight; a burst of green
A glimpse of other worlds, secret, unseen.
When wild parrots fly, the world turns green
And ordinary thoughts take magic flight
The air glows from within; supernal light
Indelibly inscribes this wild sight.
I blink; the birds are gone; did they exist?
Was this strange sight a message or a tryst
arranged to bring me hope by beings unseen?
Is magic in the world, and is it green?
(Copyright 1998 by Marina Michaels; all rights reserved.)