Unflapping, as if painted on the sky,
her pinions balanced on the April breeze
no meal escapes her glitt'ring yellow eye
who perches on the air, as if in trees.
The osprey stoops, our breaths and heartbeats pause
she exits dreamtime, very much awake.
A trout now thrashes dumbly in her claws
that thought itself the big fish in this lake.
The timeless drama, predator and prey
the plumpest sacrifice the waters give
will feed her nestlings for another day
unless fish die, their predators can't live.
To mourn this death too much would be absurd;
my sympathy's entirely with the bird.
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