Over the Village Parking lot,
Raven flies lazily.
Spies something of interest eighty feet below.
Raising the angle of attack of its left wing, stalls the airflow.
Left wing loses lift and drops, as right wing lifts.
It rotates one hundred and eighty degrees and steadies...
A perfect stall-turn.
Both wings raise their incidence and the bird becomes a parachute.
Descending rapidly but gracefully, a flare to brake as it alights,
retrieving the object that has interested it, and a take off into the wind...
Mere seconds elapse.
Action without thought.
Grace without concern.
Completion without planning.
No comments:
Post a Comment