As the sun glides gently down towards the horizon every night, so the birds begin to flock together.
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With intense purpose they move to the edge of the village and in their thousands fill every branch, wire and mast.
There they sit exchanging noisy and excited conversation which rises in volume and intensity as the sun sits poised on the horizon like the eye of some mythic fiery beast.
As it holds them in its final solar gaze, the birds one by one become still.
This silence is perhaps born of awe, or perhaps they are overcome with fear or maybe simply it is wonder and gratitude.
Whatever the reason the sunset is marked with a reverence that is the equal of any found in the great temples of the world.
Finally as the beasts eye blinks, closes and drops below the far line of mountains the birds are released from their trance and reanimate themselves into the cooling dusk.
Wave after wave they leave their solar gazing vantage points and head back into the heart of the village. Here they drop one by one like black avian rain into the ancient pine that forms their roost tree.
It is now the pines turn to come to life, every needle quivering with this ornithological riot as it be a welcomes its avian brothers and sisters.
As the dark gradually enfolds the village these birds move closer to the main trunk and become silent as sleep takes them far away from this earthly realm for a few short hours.
Photos: Avian skydance above Facinas. Courtesy of the author.