‘There’s a hawk roosting! ’, <br />he says like Ted. <br />Exuberant, like a <br />sugarspun child, <br />he rushes to the window <br />to watch the bird <br />as it works and searches <br />in our backyard. <br /> <br />A predator dressed with feathers, <br />brown-flecked, silken armour, <br />the hawk rips and pulls <br />its broken kill. <br />It eyes us behind the glass, <br />watchful, but unbothered <br />and continues to make history <br />of a thing that was. <br /> <br />There are no sounds. <br /> <br />‘Beautiful! ’, he cries <br />with mannish marvel, <br />seeing freedom in wingspans, <br />power in flight <br />and a firm grip through hooked feet. <br />He revels in the unscripted necessity, <br />the precision and skill. <br />He doesn’t see the blood, <br />but I suspect he knows <br />that it’s there. <br /> <br />He chooses the beauty. <br /> <br />‘They only eat meat‘, <br />he says apathetically. <br />Then he turns to smile, <br />as I’m sure Ted must have done, <br />with admiration and awe <br />as he watches this creature <br />rip and swallow some more. <br /> <br />So majestic! , he sighs, <br />so I bow my head. <br /> <br />My nature <br />only lets me <br />think about <br />the kill.<br /><br />Tara Teeling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-kill-beyond-the-nest/
