This evening on the longest day, in the quiet hour between dusk and dark
A Pair of buzzards circled high in twisted soar, angled, banking low
Until with soft thud on leaf strewn peaty forest floor,
The smallest lay silent.
I carried him, softly tawny feathered.
Down fine as hair lay swirled over amber shrouded ebony beak.
As beak gently opened and flint fierce claws unfurled I gazed into eyes deep as blackest
And in him saw all the sorrows of the world, with wildness lost to him forever.
In this long shared moment I seemed to feel what it meant to be he
And in his raptor gaze returned, I thought he recognised a fellow creature in me.