Past plovers hiding in pickleweed
an airborne tilt-a-whirl of phalaropes pass by
while the Peregrine continues
his roller-coaster flight down the shoreline.
He dips, ducks dive.
The gulls rise and fall en masse
shouting a collective eek.
The Peregrine passes over the ghosts of Harlequins
taken shooting gallery style
by trophy hunters
We drive parallel to his line of flight
my speedometer reading 45
it’s a leisurely flight plan he’s filed.
We soon arrive at the end of the causeway
and the falcon having shuffled the deck on one side
like a boomerang
turns
g-force absorbed
direction reversed he rises
then wings closed, dives
and a Ring-necked Duck too slow
is struck and seized
Stunned
his prize accompanies him
under the big top
they take a lunch break.
very nice Norm.
Re your poem: I especially liked: “The Peregrine passes over the ghosts of Harlequins
taken shooting gallery style by trophy hunters.”
and, “We drive parallel to his line of flightmy speedometer reading 45. It’s a leisurely flight plan he’s filed.”
In exchange, Here is an excerpt from my tale. When this scene happens, my young lovers (Joni and Gabe) have been having a hard time of it. They are both thinking that their relationship may be breaking apart.
“They didn’t go dancing.
Instead, Gabe checked the rear view mirror, signaled a lane change, then cut over onto route 92 heading west to the edge of the earth.
Hand in hand they walked the beach.
Half Moon Bay. Half Moon.
Half Full. Half Empty.
Wind cooled but not chilled,
Oft stopped to stand quiet.
Whilst their souls set to soaring with
Brown Pelicans surfing effortless above the coastal water.
Hearts slowed to keep time with rhythmic thrum of wings in flight.
Silhouetted above the waves.
Twilight embracing sand and rock with last precious warmth of
Brief remaining moments of gold glint sunshine.
Half Empty. Half Full.
They trilled a silent love song to each other,
Through the touch of fingers entwined, warm.
Bittersweet.
“Whatever shall I do without you?
For it is you who make me whole.”
Then they drove down the old Cabrillo Highway,
Clinging to the steep edge of the West land.
Until darkness settled hard over sea and sky.
When they returned to climb the stairs to bed.
Together.
What a lovely metaphor the Half Empty. Half Full makes it serves both their relationship, life and the scene you place them in. I like it.