Kites

photo credit: jurban IMG_0592 via photopin (license)

photo credit: jurban IMG_0592 via photopin (license)

On high,
Eyes wide seeing all
Mapping the ground for signs,
Knowing all. Waiting for opportunity,
The bending of a stem spied below,
As talons tensing in anticipation,
You scry omens of good fortune.

A murder of crows takes flight
Cawing foreign curses as they rise
To give battle. Hooligan rabble
With threats seek to take control
Of the skies.
The prey slips out of your eyeline
As black wings beating furiously
Crows seek to crowd you out.

Wing dips as you circle,
The chorus waits to sing.
Thin rodent wriggles weakly,
Not what you sought
But gripped tightly between claws
The only meal you could beg.
For the brood that sing praises
For their mother returning home.
 
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

This is from prompt number four of five

photo credit: vpickering Blossom Kite Festival via photopin (license)

photo credit: vpickering Blossom Kite Festival via photopin (license)

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