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
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