…………………..
east or west down the trail in fog
the bark of a distant dog
a meadow rolls off in that cloak
a cleft in its breast of a brook
deciduous trees to the north
a hawk in the fifth or the forth
scans for the twitch of a meal
not a stitch of remorse will it feel
as it falls on its prey like a bomb
with cold genetic aplomb
there are such people who prey
on an earth we’ve created this way
by Jim Culleny
Blink 