Scattered folds of night
litter bright mown grasses
spring up into the air
startled, flapping
at our arrival
We watch them wheel and
turn above us
spot a Red Kite floating high
turn again, caw to each other
settle under advantageous trees
Kite eats carrion not crow
Copyright © 2022 Kim Whysall-Hammond
For this week’s earthweal challenge, we are asked to “write of WILD MIND. How does green fire take root in the thought of our poems?”
I am offering up a little vignette of parkife here in my small town. After a morning of Internet research for a local project, I took a walk, and was lifted by my local birds.