Watching with bird pride
Working the cliff-side
Looking for noon fare,
Freezing in mid-air
Hovering, sharp-eyed
Swooping, he nose-dived
Spreading a wide wing
Sweeping, his claws cling
Avoiding a sharp beak
Emitting a high squeak
Running, a small shrew
Avoiding the next cue
Missing , the bird soared
Pulsating, his eyes bored
Trailing the same line
Waiting for next time.
Predatory Kestral
Doing his best.

Shyly quiet,
hunched in servile pretense,
the white coat
of one seagull crunches old
paper, ruffles
wind-bunched feathers and
waits astride
a cliff-top fence while I, car
encased, unwrap
my lunch and admire views
in a welcome break,
but yellow-eyed tactics strut
a strategy, to win
open windows and ******
guilt in people
who throw half-eaten crusts
as easy pickings.
Guile rewarded, fights begin
for wily wings
soon muster to shove others
in screaming war
as one feeding bird becomes
transformed to four
then ravenous dozens until
not a crumb left
as I close the car door on yet
more skirmish.
At hunger's worst, its gnaw
serves self first
by law of nature in the raw.

Who has not heard the very
first whisper
Of sonorous change as it catches
the drift
In tremulous breeze and starts
to quiver ?
An inward shuddering swells
to myriads
Of differing encores chiming to
sighing winds.

Who of us has measured each
rhythm blown
Thru trees and expertly echoes
all the notes
That ****** in my swinging pipes
of chrome ?
The chatter when changing key
by rota,
Makes wind-chiming music sing
in motion.

Who has explained this addiction
for more
Tunes as wind's move transfixes
with awe ?
Mad moments subdued by mystic
sound draws
From ringing a peace not met with
before.
Stress-mood relieved proves chimes
can transform

Wild foaming tops in whitening turbulence,
Racing up beach-ward an ocean unloads.
Boisterous motion bouncing with fervour,
Explosions discharging as froth overflows.

Sea seized with madness starts to spit pebbles,
Sandy **** shaken like rats tails thru' air,
Tumbling excitement as breakers rise restless,
Desperate to fling salty bits from their hair.

Wind force increasing boats wisely harbour,
Diving, brave seagulls dip nearer the waves.
Dark sky showing storm drifting to starboard,
Pewter mist begins mixing cobalt with grays.

Petulant tides on this coast need caution so
Dicing no more with ocean homeward I go.