Kingsbrae 16.3
16 June 2017
Stand off
Yesterday,
a raven and an eagle,
bald-headed,
faced off on the ice.
They stared at each other,
necks tucked into
hunched shoulders,
feathers fluffed,
otherwise unmoved,
unmoving.
Each dared the other
to make himself vulnerable,
to stretch out his neck
for the dead fish lying
beside the ice hole
they both guarded.
It seemed as if
they were waiting
for the opening whistle
that would send them
head to head
in mortal combat.
Immobile combatants.
Slow dance of moving ice,
cracked and crackling.
Sudden swift sparring:
a dance of death.
Really .an amazing poem.dear roger.you r doing your best in Kira.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Aruna. The statues in the gardens are inspiring too.
LikeLike
Welcome with ur wonderful garden,dear roger!!
LikeLiked by 1 person