Bird of Prey

The glare
from the black
bird’s feathers
blinded me with a single stare.

I looked away, looked back,

watched him perch
in an old oak
outside my window.

I began to recreate
his story in my mind,
just what it was that led him here to this tree.

But then he turned and looked at me.
Our eyes met for but a single moment

just before
he flew away

still clutching
my imagination

in his claws.




(c) 2009 James Eric Watkins