Poetry

I drift on the wind
eying the world,
looking at things passing beneath me
 
and the whole sky is clear
stretching out blue and in the distance
changing in its hue
 
and I revolve watching for prey
hanging high, gliding almost endlessly
until suddenly finding it
 
and drop down at lightning speed
with the sun covering me,
materialising right upon my target
 
and with great skill
with outstretched claws and sharp beak
I make a perfect kill.