THE
GYR-FALCON
-
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.
****