Captured, But Not Prey
Amazed at morning bird songs, 
numerous, varied, and incessant,
I looked up, even knowing most birds perch
out of sight, hidden in a leafy canopy.

One tall bird, large claws curled around the power line,
hooked beak, white chest softly spotted, 
full-grown and fearless,
stared back at me. 

Captured, though not prey,
I stood and snapped photos of the falcon,  
watching until he flew away.

Ever since that morning,
I look up at the power lines above the golf course fence.
Though I have not seen another falcon,
mourning doves delight me daily. 

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