Sharp wings tug at frigid air
Thermals crippled
By Cailleach’s touch.
Though sky is her hue
Delightful deep blue,
Her breath makes the bird
Struggle for height
Strive for flight.
He circles, frustrated,
Almost black against
The colourful morning.
He scars the misty white face
Of the half moon;
A cataract eye
Blinking behind cloud lids;
Tired of night
So drifting sleepily into day.
Music in my ears as this tableau-
Hawk framed by half moon-
Is forever sealed by the kiss
Of blessed memory.

Words copyright Mabh Savage 2013

Art Kirsten Savage 2013

Thanks sis x