☛ Submission for October, 2024 issue (Vol. 5, No. 2) is going on. The last date for submission is 30 September, 2024.





-         Heather Sager (U.S.A.)

His head, whiter than spotless snow,

his eyes black, bold and beady, almost

cute. His hook nose,

common for the falcon.

The sleek profile.

His body white

with wondrous black spots,

the wide wings,

and the underside of his kingly tail

with a doily pattern on it.

His self like            

a majestic peregrine

shocked of all color

and without

the peregrine’s trim moustache—

instead a bald, fresh face,

almost naive-looking

for being an adult bird—

the beady black eyes stand out,

search sky,

the beak fringed yellow

(he so high up in the tree)

searches sky.

A noble face,

proud shoulders as he perched.

Where was the falconer?

On whose wrist would this noble bird land?

The falcon flew now from tree to tree,

gathering sticks

and comically, sometimes, dropping them

to the path by my feet. The other times

he appeared to drop the sticks

in the abandoned raven’s nest in a tree.

Was it play, or build-up of a nest?

I then thought the noble falcon

wasn’t a he, but a lady.

A beautiful lady.