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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