Latching little hooks On a disused picture antenna The fledglings broadcast in chattering yips, squawks, squabbles and whistles That sometimes dip. Like they know that 1 is missing.
All but 1
Cheetah
A brush that’s silent ~ Strokes spots across the dense page ~ Touches leaf and twig.
Opportunist
Seared in silver fur, ~ An arrow head marks the face ~ Of one who watches and waits.
Old Red
The gift of a nut ~ Is claimed by sensitive hands. ~ Old red nibbles on.
Stags’ do…
Ripping silver mist ~ Is the chainsaw ignition ~ Of a bark in rut.
Wildebeest
Open under a seared brow, And set in thick and rolling skin, Wobbling But glimmering under a head of horns: A beest’s inky eye.
The Rage
In the rage, I cut my shape in granite skies, With horns twisted and skyward In the rage, I stand like a gnarled cathedral Wrought with hot hammers and tongs.
The Morning After
On the dry dazzle of baked crust Dusty stilettos clop As the donkeys in striped pyjamas End a rough night With a few thirsty gulps.
Puffback
Leaves shake at the sight ~ Of a fiery red eye ~ And round puff of white.
