Six assorted buzzards and kites
claimed this sky today,
their joyed metallic calls proclaimed above me
while I pottered slightly mournfully below
in a fecund but disappointing garden

From their strident majesty
I should take inspiration
and bend the land to match their empire

I got as far as picking some crisp packets
out of a hedge

Our feet scuffed drying ruts
along the riverbank
and we gave the land
our thanks for holding up

Alongside us, green bright head
curious,
a duck and drake kept pace

I know the quizzical eye
was a bread request
but you’re as lucky as the rest of us

Above us, swimming languid
in unbounded blue
two buzzards circled

My mind got to thinking:
what fate are they
hoping for?

I don’t know what hurt worse,
The tick-tock
And clock in all –

Or the waiting,
Just one more second,
The wanting,
One last second
And be ******
The wine stained sand
And buzzards atop ear;

Always to remind of how I’d
Loved and ultimately
Failed.