I remember looking,
looking at a bird.
And saw it standing still o’er looking
places undisturbed.
It seemed so dark attentive,
staring at a fox;
whose fur and paws and back stayed hunched-
like to take down an ox.
He stayed so tense, so silent,
and eyes fixed like a stone,
that upon me following his drawn eyes,
I came across a bone.
The bone be from a lion,
the bone be from...a man?
Yet soon my realization
made my attention further span.
I remember looking,
looking at a bird,
whose beak was frozen,
feet ybounden,
and eyes in horror locked.
The fox so tense so stiffened,
claws digging through snow to rock,
looked forn’t a source of nurriture
but a friend lost ‘gainst the clock.
I remember looking,
looking at a two birds,
whose prayers been made,
whose sympathy shown:
yet compassion never heard.