In spring morning haze,
out of a red brick council house,
a bothered standing hawk
steals the wide eyed wonder
of a radged bairn who reaches
upwards with pudgy hands to grasp
her silver underside and blue head.
The wonder bawls as it arcs in her claws
over buried mines and call
centre natter to a high perch
in weed racked ruins of an Old Hall.
The wonder refuses warm remains
of voles and mice,
desperate feathered mam returns
with scavenged chips, naan bread and pizza,
In noon summer shimmer
she pushes wonder to fly,
but it falls out the cup,
grasps stone wall in its drop.
Soon, a cuckoo, wonder heaves
the other nippers out their home,
into an autumn mid afternoon
of burnished fallen leaves,
or, bored at mothers twitter
wonder cannot garner,
breaks its fellow fledglings bones.
Soon too big for home,
wonder falls to earth,
and snaps its spine.
Kestrel mam covers wonder’s face
with her wing in winter night
gust, then abandons it
to foxfood and worms.
Copyright © Paul Brookes 2016
Paul Brookes is a Yorkshireman. Plain spoken,
except when he’s writing.