March 1989
Perfection
Translucent claws, so neatly trimmed
The veins of life seen pulsing within
Curled like scythes
Perfection
Searching, curious, beady
The eyes tell all that abounds within
With a blink, a question's asked, And answered
Perfection
Precise and unfaltering, the bill is
Always bobbing ahead,
It batters and cleans, preens and feeds
Perfection
The power of air with the power of bone
Lightweight bone, streamlined alive
The wind cannot escape
perfection.
- Edward Fielding Barnsley
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