Water ripples
Boats are nearing the harbour
Counts the fish in the catch,
a hard day’s labour.
Eagle spreads its wings, soars high
Counts the boats, the splashing waves
Crows fly in groups
Black, noisy, annoying,
speedy winds they brave.
Fishermen tanned, wet, touch the shore
Crates of colours blue, red and more
Fill with different fish,
ready for a tasty treat
Cats lounge near the fish cutter’s seat.
Crows gather
Snatch a fish, displace it in the soil wet
Crows cannot let this happen
Air smells fish and salt water
Eagle watches the scavenger’s
flight and fight
Mid air altercations
Fish in the eagle’s beak, a sorry sight.
An eagle does not fight a crow.
It’s talons try to save the fish
From an unceremonious funeral
On a busy public road.
Eagles fo not descend
A mistake unfit for a creature
Of power and potential
To become red stained brown wings.
Crows gather, caw ceremoniously
Feed on the scrap on the road
The eagle’s soul rests in peace.
No responses yet