Hawk

I glide aloft

gazing down

searching for movement

on the ground.

 

There! Flash

flaming pain

I drop unconscious

awakened by rain.

 

A stone pellet

sling thrown

has torn my feathers

damaged bone.

 

To survive I must

 hunt ere night.

Mangled feathers hamper flight.

 

Freezing winds

through the either chime

a durge, a death knell

as I climb.

 

To live I must split the wind

 become Diana's javelin.

 Find a place where rabbit's play

 in my greenwood ere shut of day.

 

Twilight holds Death at bay

though Death will triumph

in it's way.

 

Will I

with bloodied talon bared

tear into meat

my fill to eat?

 

Or will the gods

a rodent save

and I go early

to my grave?

 

Reviews

[Robin]

a verbose tale of dealing with the after effects of one man's thoughtlessness of nature.