Red Tailed Hawk, On Watch

Soaring high above the grassy terrain, Which renders much more than daily grain. The waving grass is inviting me aground, But cautiously first I'll just look around. Effortlessly floating aloft on thermal air, I soar in large circles as below I stare. A running Titmouse having now caught my eye, has given me reason to soon leave the sky. A dead tree branch has now become my perch, as I stand a moment to continue my search. Again detecting movement in the grass below, as the mouse catches my eye off stealthily I go. An occasional shrill cry is my only sound, next my shadow, from above, on the ground. With one swift lurch its life soon will end, with beak and talons its small body I'll rend. A daily occurrence in the food chain you see, while I hunt for mice, other things hunt me. My reason for killing, to survive, unlike man, who kills me for pleasure and because he can.