No footsteps precede mine
and I enjoy the solitude as snowflakes fall.
The wind races ahead
carrying whispers of the chill frost.
Suddenly a pine tree stirs
white powder sliding off the green branches
as a small blue raptor launches.
This hunter flies low and swift,
straight towards me
and so close that he passes through
my breath vapor clouds
parting the fog like a misty shroud,
slicing my breath with his wings.
For just a brief instant we stare eye to eye
he fierce, proud, merciless, and curious;
me amazed and surprised,
too slow with my camera,
and glad that I am not a mouse or rabbit,
wondering if a bird named after a wizard
ever goes hunting for souls.
Gary Every, Arizona, USA