From this cool tip
Even from this side of the cape
The compelling nimbus
Of inhuman dogma comes.
They come with sharp kieries
To ruin this innocent kettle-drummer
Even their worthless kafir.
From afar I watch and hoot to no avail
For the hawks glide
And carry our guiltless chicks.
We chide with less success
The vultures hover with persistence
Awaiting an imminent death
Of nature’s impeached hawks.