a small black dot
pinwheels
miles above in a dry blue sky
like magic,
all the furry guys
vanish
into the security of dark burrows
and it drops, like a suicidal fighter pilot
streaming wild glory
taken by a divine wind
slowing only by significant milliseconds
before diving, crashing, crushing
a heap of brown legs
long ears and soft velvet
invaded by arrow feathers
dagger talons and a shrill scream
Briefly, the huntress glances up
head tilted, curving sharp smirk
outlined in torn flesh and red
large liquid eyes filled with cold,
intelligent regard
An hour from now, the
survivors will emerge
with thoughts
of wild berries
and petals
they’ll delicately tread
around the dark spot
noses twitching at
the scent
of the kill.