Kestrel – a poem

Eye to liquid amber eye,
Bel fire burnishing your back;
Aerial spirit, still and searching
The edges of the edgeland where
Metal and stone bleed into sky.
A glance, a vision of the wild –
Closeness implied but distance felt.
On rising thermals hovering;
The hunt, the locus of your gaze.
A swoop, a dive, a moment past,
The dance of life and death plays out.
The drumming beat of mottled wings,
Then fire vanishes to air
Beyond our own familiar roads.

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