Talons gripped tight
upon a perch looking for prey.
Eyes are intent – there is no sound.
High above, patiently waiting
the raptor knows it is only
a mater of time. Then
the head leans forward as
wings draw back, like a runner at
the starting block waiting for the shot.
Stoop nearly straight down in
a parabolic arc - stretching wings at
the last moment, before touching the earth.
So full of life; from
where did it come? Perhaps from
the unfortunate creature, that never –
thought to look up.
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