MORNING'S MINION
The kestrel
threw its shadow
on the path
that ran away from me
vanishing into the sun
before it could enter my eyes.
I saw and did not see it.
I had only ever seen it
in words
the poet's lines
hovering in my mind
until here upon my arm
in a football ground
deigning to allow us
in its presence
gazing into
and beyond
my tiny humanity.
***
Visiting West Ham United's original ground with a class we encountered a man flying a kestrel whilst the grass was being sown. Apparently the iconic shape of the hawk becomes imprinted on the bird's brain and it triggers the right flight response rather than "Hey....let's gorge on seed!" After that kestrel and man were off to Highbury to done the same for the Arsenal.
It was like looking into the eyes of something from a very distant past....to whom all time was the same and this awed man was nothing but a speck on its vision that simply didn't interest it. It was kind of itself and owned the world.