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.