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Through morning fog I search,
wings heavy with dampness,
thwack thwack thwacking
as I skim the mudflats,
heron looking up as she picky-toes
along the shore,
a sudden rustle in the grasslands:
small fur creature scurrying to hide,
Raven racing me to breakfast,
cawing, raucous.
I swoop, I miss,
Raven, too,
flurry of wings brown and black,
small creature in its hole.
I retreat to the topmost scrag,
feathers and spirit ruffled,
