I had a sudden burst of inspiration looking out of my wingdow seeing a wind hover over the woods next door the other day:
Higher, higher , higher still.
I soar through the air,
Teasing the ground that will never claim me.
I am a Kestrel, Lord of the skies,
King of my territory.
Hovering for a second on silent wings,
I dive sharply, plummeting towards the ground.
The earth welcoming my fall,
The ground that will not claim me.
Turning swiftly,
I alight on a tree and survey my kingdom.
It's field sewn together with rows of hedges and trees,
Like an autumn coloured quilt.
Fields of corn shaking hands with the wind,
As it waves in the breeze.
Tree leaves murmur and whisper,
As they sway from side to side.
Amber orbs flare as they spy a movement,
One life to sustain another.
With a renewed burst of energy,
I lift to the skies once more.
The Sun beating down on my back,
Casts the shadow of death on my quarry.
Falling, plummeting, diving,
Like the arrow flying towards the bullseye.
My target.
A peircing cry,
Disturbs crows from their roost in a nearby tree.
Higher, higher, higher still,
I soar through the air.
Teasing the gound that will never claim me.
I am a Kestrel, Lord of the skies,
King of my territory.