He perches      boldly
on the old phone wire
down Canning Factory Road.

He sings      killy killy killy
a violent tune for a falcon
painted in colbalt and rust.

Sir Toby once disparaged the staniel
as an inferior sparrowhawk. Yet here,
head down, the wind-hover enchants his prey.

Voles scamper into the marsh grass.
Young hares cower.
I admire his beauty, murder be damned.

Marjorie Gowdy writes and paints on her farm at the foot of Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains. Over a long career, she has written essays, poems, short stories, and is working on a historical novel. She has had three chapbooks of poetry published, and her poems and illustrations may be found in a number of regional journals including Streetlight (Fall 2022), Artemis, Clinch River Review, and the Journal of the Virginia Writers Project.