On starry nights the mind is like
To step on board a vision;
To climb the enigmatic steps –
The liquid path to heaven;

Fast to ascend – for some too fast –
And then to stop and ponder
For here the mind holds precedence
Revelling in wonder.

For minds behold what eyes cannot,
So stop to gaze in awe
At shooting stars, at swirling mists
And worlds not seen before;

At light-filled cosmic pantomimes
That never cease their games
And ever-changing paradigms
Of constellation frames.

But then too soon the vision halts
Its journey into space,
While falling fast the mind clings on
But has its fate to face.

For back in its imprisoned home
It cannot wander free
But lives within the narrow-world
That only eyes can see.

In foreign land of towering pines
And hammocks, mangrove-torn
A dark-filled night reluctantly
Bequeaths a pale dawn

Upon one battered cypress perched,
Amidst the morning haze,
Bright eyes stare out from part-cocked head
With piscicultural gaze.

Intently focussed on the brook,
That glides beneath the tree
Alive to every shadow’s sound
Yet never truly free.

For choicelessly these eyes are drawn,
As waters break below
And like a flash a head snaps back
And rippled muscles flow.

Within the slightest moment’s breath,
Two mighty wings released,
Two claws full-stretched, two legs reach out
The sinews, strained, unleashed.

The beaten air the only sound,
As time itself stands still
And, tracer-like, on charted course
The osprey meets its ****.

With consummate and practiced ease
The painless end begins
The single deadly blow is dealt
As sharpened claws sink in.

Then up away into the dawn
And time resumes its course
Two final beats – then disappeared
Is this magnetic force.

The cypress perch and well-filled brook
As silent witness stay
And as they settle – calm again
The sun declares the day.