Out of the corner of my eye
I saw it plunge
out of the morning sky
toward the rooftops.
At the last second
it swooped upward,
swerving toward the trees.
Landing gear extended,
flaps down on gray wings,
tail twisting for control.
Mississippi Kite "landing"
on a branch of a dead tree,
breakfast in its mouth.
"Landing" is such an ordinary
word for nature's ballet.
I love this poem! I could see the whole event in your vivid verse. It swoops and dives with the bird that inspired it - and lands just where it should have!!!
ReplyDelete