Tuesday, May 10, 2011
The dark shape circles high above;
Even from here, he looks a frightful bird,
Patrolling boundaries, claiming ground.
Nothing stirs in the grass below;
Moles and rabbits hunker as the meadow stills.
Even the slippery snake slides along the bank
And dips into shadow.
How do they know that danger waits above,
That brooding patience wins?
And is it always so, that the rest of us,
Even those who give to others fright,
Eventually succumb, eventually become
Just part of last night's leavings?
And is there always, always overhead,
Some great and fearsome presence stalking Eden?