On late afternoons in the fall, when the sun is almost-but-not-quite at the horizon, the starlings gather. Sitting on the now-bare branches of the tallest tree, they noisily share the day’s news and gossip.

And then, as dusk settles in, the signal is given: the lone high note in whichever song they’re singing, the snap of a beak, the flick of a tail, or the nearly imperceptible wave of a wing — and they swoop into the sky by the hundreds, to dance the swirling steps of their autumn murmurations.

(Early November 2023)

Story © Jennifer Singleton / Read+Purr

This is another vignette in my ongoing series of Tiny Garden Stories: peaceful 1-minute tales that let you read like a kid again. Click one of the first two buttons below to go to (or back to, if that’s where you fell down the rabbit hole) either the “Public Garden” archive page or (if you’re a Story Club member) to the members-only “Private Garden” page. Or click the third button to learn more about my Tiny Garden Stories. If you’re new to Tiny Garden Story-land and would like 10 days’ worth of stories from our first year, visit ReadPurrNewsletter.com.