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The sparrowhawk

A sparrowhawk seared through the leaves and scarce moved a single one

Intent on its course and so in the blink of an eye was gone

Nothing moved thereafter for at least fifteen strangled minutes

The forest died with the bird whose life she had just diminished

 In a hollow of vacuum left in the vanishing slipstream

A pause button held testimony to where two lives had been.

Would this predatory wraith-like apparition come again

To test murderous eye, wing and talon coordination?

Don’t they have a regular patrolling route on which they scout?

Garden bird feeding brings birds in from barren farmed land without

A jungle of leafy trees and dense shrubs deceive with cover

But what conceals prey in equal measure conceals predator.

 Somewhere in the dying farmland lies a scattered wreath of down

Rained on a blooded corpse with frailest of feathers blown around

A pathetic memorial to a life not understood

Hail, higher life-forms the smaller would bow before if they could

The great kings and queens take a life to give a life to others

Thus display their love of life and become the greatest lovers.

© RM Meyer

Winswell Water, August 2019