9 September, the Eagle
I hear then see them coming, whip downstairs, get
the camera, but the cockies have gone, a raptor snakes
tight circles. Usually, a Kite, Whistling or Square-tailed,
sometimes an Osprey or Sea Eagle, an occasional Crested Falcon
or Grey Goshawk, but this was larger with voluminous wings,
a Wedge-tailed Eagle, usually seen further inland –
right overhead, a perfect view needing a perfect poem.
(The tail is too large, the patterns different- we jumped to conclusions).
10 September, the Hobby
Driving back from the opening, stopping off for
a fallen tree and a collapsed shed, back on the road
building up to a hundred, flying above the windscreen,
a chequered fingerless blur, blushed chest, square tail,
flowing across to crowded trees, fast, almost subliminal,
stretching what we share. If only we had the courage of
our convictions to save every last bird on the planet.