The tombstone buzzard
On the quiet road I often travel
Aloft a telegraph pole I may
See the tombstone Buzzard sentinel.
Hunting or just resting, who can say?
Standing erect so obviously,
No recourse to common camouflage.
He claims his invisibility.
Challenging vision by bold carriage.
Fooling myself that he nods at me.
Still I wonder: Might a thought carry,
Between a man earthbound but friendly
And a raptor perched so loftily?
© R M Meyer
North Devon, September 2018
