Thursday, October 30, 2008

Essay. Flying

Flying over the field. Looking for the movement, the smallest twitch gets my attention. Driven only by the emptiness in my gut. It is good that it is cloudy, that which I am hunting is less likely to be alarmed by my shadow.

Quiet, peaceful, gliding, looking closely, searching far. Rhythm of my wings, unaware of my breath.

Daylight – time to fly. Darkness – time to rest. Ever wary.

Here they come. The small birds. My tormentors. Taunting me. Harassing me. Moving me away from their nests. Their young. They protect – I hunt.

A movement below. I circle. No need to identify what it is - just recognize the movement. I circle. Years of experience. Timing. Part knowledge - part cellular memory.

NOW !!! I dive head first towards the ground. Focused intention. I pull back, talons reaching in front of me. I strike. I close around the snake and immediately head back for the freedom on the skies. Death = life. Another day.

* annette

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