such a little death
though not, of course, for the mouse
sparrow hawk’s swift swoop
Yesterday I witnessed three sparrow hawk attacks within an hour; one unfortunate mouse, a somewhat plucked but fortunate collar dove and a lucky sparrow.
The hills are made invisible by an evening mist.
Against this a kettle of five hawks,
three red kites and two buzzards,
spiral in the diffused golden light,
unhurried, synchronised, perfect.
It is a moment of poetry,
of passion and perfection
that I am privileged to witness.