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 !
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