Red Tailed Hawk

Talk about strutting your tail-feathers, and using your assets to get what you want, when calling card is no gambit or bluff to flaunt- In the crimson sky, read taled, "Glinted Eye", air siren wails like a little Banshee crossed with Harpy Eagle getting squirrely-with drifting, chasing a pantry, sifting. Shifting winds Wings outstretched, a dance of grace and the Imp aerial, serial predator with eyes that see all. In silence they hunt, in character they are found like a-spirit bound to dive and move to strike like lightning that could take the keys from a kite, deliver it to lost and found in a single pass then bolt onto the earthen or serpent mound for a snack o ripe. Picking, the time and the place, to descend from the cloud-face. A creature of freedom, a seeker in the wild, it roams without shame, blame it on the shifting sands- and Time's dial ectic ding, turn of style. The real shame is not to lay your eyes upon those diabol feathers of fire, their presence a chakraic idol that evokes a primal sense of desire. Bear witness and be thou humbled in awe from this majestic bird, to hunt like a machine without mood or fear, in the vast expanse of the open sky, soars above, perseveres.