Close Encounter of the Bird Kind

He's gliding, Lightly down the hill – The ancient track, the Hollow Way. He's hungry, Searching for a kill: He must locate a meal today. Our eyes meet. His, like two dark pools, Impenetrable, golden rimmed. His wingspan, At least a metre Tip to tip; majestic power. Yet gliding Seems so effortless – Master of conserved energy. Closing speed, Buzzard to vehicle Approaching thirty miles per hour ! Collision Unavoidable ? Urgent action now required. With two flaps Of those giant wings He's climbing steeply overhead, Gracefully Alights on a branch Watches my progress with disdain. Mem'rable My experience : Close encounter of the bird kind !