Hovering

Hovering, eyes so keen they see the imprint of DNA run through its unsuspecting quarry Muscles ache, the wait unbearable. Each crystallised moment of time is a chapter, wrapped around a scented taste of cloudless sky On the ground a cautious proboscis, bristles and explores, its owner the protector of tight young bellies demanding their next meal. These incentives, become the lure for a short foray into the outside larder. And tendons help stretch half-filled pouches of seeds, packaged ready for the table Hovering above, nature's instinctive neurons release a calculated dive. Casting a Centre-point shadow of increasing consequence. Followed by a swift snatch, the chapter closes and normal time resumes In talloned grasp and on winged journey, the struggling proboscis has time to make peace with herself, empty her pouches and gorge one final meal