Two Birds
// Pia Taavila-Borsheim
Across our northern skies, two birds
charge and wheel, the smaller sleek
in hot pursuit. Perhaps the larger
skulked to raid the newborn nest.
Perhaps a tuft of food its beaked
desire lured. Whatever the cause
of this flight’s rage, they grapple, peck,
fall and swoop. The chaser nips
the other’s tail, ignores the odds,
defying physics, brave in sheer
revenge, aloft. I watch them wing
throughout the morn, then turn to walk
long-rutted fields. Briars, hawthorne
rise to snag. Their gnarled beauty
hosts a single feather, black.