Basic Drama

– for Steve Abbott

Two wingspans, as though cleaved

on a strip of exposed bedrock:

russet bands, a kestrel, perhaps.

 

No flesh, no bone, a few tufts nearby.

 

A clean attack, turned awry?

Prey turned into prey?

A weasel emerges as a prime suspect.

 

All the same, everyone’s

gotta eat, sometime.

5:X:2005
Mount Agamenticus, Maine

Poem copyright 2017 by Jnana Hodson.
For more, click here.

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