Red Goshawk

The soaring majestic ruler of the skies,

Ready to attack prey left in the undergrowth,

Eyes flicker and talons outstretched,

It rushes towards the ground,

Folded in on itself,

Cutting through the air,

The caw of a win ricochets through the air.

The rush of the wind as it soars back to the top,

Ready to enjoy its feast,

The caw of the champion,

The squeal of the prey,

Quickly cut off by razor sharp talon,

Slicing the life out of the mouse,

The trees soar by, as it heads to its nest.

As the bird soars down and sits upon its throne,

Of scattered bones and twigs,

The endless forest that it hunted in

Looms for all eternity

But it is home,

For the Red Goshawk.