In open sky I wheel across the silvery

blue against captivity, almost weightless

on warming air my substance that of light

grounded things only know through shadow.

And you may hear a single curling mew

as I climb toward an unfiltered sun

to find myself in a spiral of oblivios joy

my power the act of knowing when

where and how I reacquaint this body

with the rooted world again, back amongst

the demented crows inĀ  agonised oaks,

the blood soaked roadkills, the wondrous mess

of earth and you rapt I leave behind.Buzzard_(Buteo_buteo)_(12)