Deadly Intent.
Over his cliff-top territory glides the bird,
Silent he hunts in an easy-wing searching.
Lone rider of wind-swept
lunchtime sky,
the kestrel stays motionless
hovering high
for moments while scanning,
then sharply eyes
every nuance of movement
for sudden cause
to swoop with deadly intent,
extended claws
knifing and tips thrown wide
he gracefully dives
in awesome descent of flight.
This time, as often, he rises with naught.
Not always goes he into dusk full-bellied.
He must keep alerted for
waterless rodents
or surfacing underground
snuffling moles,
all fare for a keen predator
bridging his bets
for needed dinner by more
windy-edged
fighting for better wing-fold
and down-winding
spin of near life and death
speed in frightening
stoop as air buries his head.
I viewed the glory of power retracting.
A kestrel\'s performance oozes majesty.