Just hanging in the sky with effortless motion,
Swirling in wide lazy circles, going ever upward,
No wing beats on this fine, sunny, still day;
The occasional mew breaking the peace.
Eyes looking around for mile on mile;
Still going upwards, on this windless day,
Until at last the prey is seen, and like an arrow
It stoops to the ground with incredible speed.
When I come back I want to be a buzzard
Hanging in the sky with that effortless ease.
-
Author:
Goldfinch60 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 17th, 2022 01:07
- Comment from author about the poem: Buzzards just float in the air.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments3
I recall seeing my first buzzard when they were still rare in early nineties. Impressive and statuesque stood watching me across a field as i drove by. Several years later a mating pair lived in a small wood nearby and we were delighted to see their talons locked twirling fall of mating ritual directly above us.
Yes magnificent soaring hawks, now quite plentiful and can be seen over the city often.
I can see the appeal in your wish. I'd choose to be a cat. Not just for the nine lives but for the superb beautiful multi-talented creatures they are.
Thank you for taking me back to those memories.
Buzzards are such wonderful creatures to see, such calmness as they float in the sky.
My pleasure d a for bring back memories.
Andy
Good write Gold.
Are you and I old buzzards as in old fogeys?!
You speak for yourself, says Fido. lol.
Thank you Orchi, we certainly are old fogeys.
Andy
A wife calls her hubby dinosaur, as he won't have e-mail. lol.
I'm all about Pigeons..
their fidgety existence
resonates
with my distrust of fate..
lol
thank Andy, a lovely shorty
I can understand your feelings about pigeons Mek.
Andy
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