So close above my head
it flies
heard before seen
the flap flap flap
of air pushed and whooshed
through the length and breadth
of wide wild wings.
Had I known ahead
I might have reached up in time
to touch its scurrilous breast
careful not to ruffle those sleek
slippery feathers.
Ahead it perches on a lone
scruffy pine above the beach.
It settles its haughty wings then
meets my lifted gaze
those brilliant charcoal eyes staring,
impenetrable,
promising some dark joy
delighted with its specter of
foreboding.
© by Carol Amato.
Used here with the author's permission.
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