I love the sound of a flock of birds flying overhead in the evening.
Everything is so incredibly quiet after twilight.
The echo of feathers that lacerates the clear air seems to send shadows over the crooked branches.
The sound of the intense rush of air through strong and delicate quills.
That whisper of sonancy quickly textures the muted afterglow of pastel colouring.
A troop of wings departing into a darkening sky.