Heat-rippled quiet, and a shape in the yellow grass. It stands,
ears trembling, nose quivering, black eyes seeing everything.
Stillness, and then--
Snake-strike quick--weightless flight through the marsh,
throwing up duckweed and drops, and down--gone!--with
a flash of white tail into a hole in the bank, safe and smug,
the falcon's dive ending frustrated and fruitlessly in a
graceless splash.
