Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2020
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.
Donall Dempsey
Written by
Donall Dempsey  Guildford
(Guildford)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems