Sunday, 24 February 2013

Merlin by Gary Every

The snow is piled deep in the narrow canyon.
            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

1 comment:

Carol Steel said...

The last line is perfect. You really share the fascination and respectful shudder very well.