Sitting at the kitchen table this morning,
first cup of coffee at hand, I glanced
out the window just in time to spy
a shadowy bird swooping down,
larger than the usual crows that haunt
the neighborhood scavenging.
I thought it looked like a bird of prey,
so I stepped out into the driveway
and recognized the sturdy body
and banded tail of a peregrine falcon
perched atop a dying pigeon.
The street was quiet outside.
I was the sole witness of this morning's
slaughter on Oconto Avenue!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem