once a bird of relentless indifference

when moments pass such as the one which passed most recent

i let thoughts linger toward the hunting days of old

 the grounds with which i stalked were the breeze and the clouds and moisture near the sun.

as that same sun washed light across the land i was the falcon. soaring and taking no effort to find my heading. the wind beneath my outstretched wings carried me and when a meal presented itself..

the wind ever my ally, moved between the bends and folds of my feathers carrying me swiftly to blood and bone.

as luna caressed the breeze with a gentle blue glow, i was the owl. 

calm. patient. 

i perched myself up onto a thick branch.

letting the evening wash over my stillness so as to seem to vanish. 

and when a foolish mouse who makes home in fields would wander too far from good sense.

i ended it's life and stuffed it down my throat before it or anything surrounding could know or hear of it. 

but one day..

ahh one day. i was a hawk. a proud hawk.

a bit of a c**t. but..

a hawk.

darting in and between trees in a thick forest, the entirety of the land beneath my wings

and all of the blue above them

belonged to, I.

and on one day of surveying my land a smug snake dared defy the truth of my sovereignty. this snake, who believed himself to be the pinnacle of deadly precision. this cold serpent. 

i swooped but he coiled away, with i admit a calm grace, and sprang forward launching his vile fangs toward me.

i dipped my wing and banked, only slightly left. before he could coil away again i shut my talon in his direction, missing him just barely. losing momentum i was forced to touch down on to the gravel. and it was then this belly crawling deviant struck me.

the brightly colored reptile's venom coursed quickly through me and it wasn't long before the dregs and maggots and urchins of this earth fed on my torn carcass.. wearing me down to a pile of filthy feathers and bone.

when i woke again i was a man. a man who had fallen for a fox at midnight, who had retained the memories of a bird of prey and longed to be that serpent whom struck me down in the time of spring.

 and thus ends this tale i had no idea i was telling.

Reviews

[Clarisse Nanoit]

Interesting. I like the undertones here, and the symbolism, which is obvious, but not overstated. Good job, and welcome back.