A Meal in the Meadow

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Was our prayer so damn unworthy

The Son rejected it?

 

A Coopers Hawk takes its meal

of the black bird, a Starling unless

I am mistaken. I am uncertain

since it may be a Mocking Bird.

And I hope it is. The Hawk

sits exposed to view and vanity

as it tears into its meal, Mocking Bird

or Starling, and as it eats the bird held in

its claws lifts a wing as in supplication

or perhaps, again, I am uncertain

it’s a goodbye wave to one and all

but I doubt that. Each curved beak pick into

the flesh is pain and disbelief as feathers

fly and fall into some pattern, I hope,

onto the snow below.

Eight of Clubs - Clayton Eshleman
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