A Bird of Prey
A bird of prey just made my day.
He perched high up, just sitting.
He looked quite regal, so the height
Was absolutely fitting.
I watched him shake his head a bit,
Perhaps to clear his vision
Of raindrops sneaking through the leaves,
To guarantee precision.
For on the hunt, those eyes detect
The slightest move or quiver,
Allowing an attack with talons
Ready to deliver.
The hawk or falcon (don’t know which)
Remained in place a while,
Then flapped its wings and swooped away
In classic hunting style.
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