Wild
Today,
on our journey home,
we saw
a buzzard
making a kill
on the roadside verge.
It glided across
our windscreen
and hunkered down
on something –
we couldn’t see
what it was – as the wings
folded around
what Lucas called
‘the prey’.
He wanted to know
if buzzards took children,
or cats;
then,
as we slowed to look,
he chose to admire
the plumage
and the fierce light
of its eye.