Buzzard

This doesn't look too bad in large ...

Buzzard

He skims a fine rim

like a potter just putting

the finishing touch to a vase, hardly

touching it at all.

The wind in his skin,

the earth holds its breath in him.

The buzzard is absolute-

ly still: the world revolves.

Now and then the ground

kneels in to him: its prayer

is full of flesh which he exalts

to weightlessness.

He knows the grand design.

He makes time stop then with a slight

flap he starts its heart again.

Matthew Barton