There is nothing to lift me

There is nothing to lift me

No strings attached

Keeping me grounded

The boards are still wet from high tide

An Osprey glides

Higher, lower

Faster slower

I will never fly so high

But I am up there with him

Looking down through his eyes

There is little to it

I can feel the power

Flowing through his body

Built to kill

There are no fish to be seen

They have his measure

For now.

I sit on a low stone wall

The cold seeping through

My board shorts

Into a marbled backside

Inherently bony

The fat on me long since gone

If it ever existed,

Nobody sees themselves

The way another sees them.

My muscle and sinew

Never a match for the hawk

Not even a Magpie

A feral pigeon

Stuffed full of dry bread,

The crumbs from a table

Meant for sparrows and tits.

I wonder at the ease

Of my mind’s wander

From human to raptor

The hawk swoops

Its claws snag

And up it soars

A silvery wriggle

Catching the light

In a spray of water.

A big fish

It will feed him,

With enough for his family.

They will not be far

And just like him, I turn for home

Where I will shower

Prepare coffee and scavenge a biscuit,

We are all hunters

In our way.