beige-headed cloud bird, i watch from the warm
as great circles crooning o’er chimney and slat
you glow in brown crimson ‘gainst light of morn.
wise eyes scour like ice, for vole, bird or rat.
o’er treetops thou drift in mighty estate,
while blackbirds and seagulls claw at thy wing.
grey snow clouds desperate to unload cold weight
are but wet, windy backdrops for what thy bring.
i’m at the window. i’m waiting still,
hot fingers steaming — hips leant on the sill.
i’ll watch as you dive through eight o’clock’s sky
yet inward thank that my food’s not so high.
red kite in thy splendour, teach me of death —
teach me the true treasure of each full breath.