The great bird in the Parkway

I was squatted down by the spring, trying to identify some plants.

A passerby froze and pointed upwards.

My parents, who were walking with me stopped and looked.

The great bird flew over our heads and turned around behind us,

hunting.

White underneath, bright with the sun, gray on the wings with wide circles,

The great bird flew over our heads and turned around behind us.

"Stop for a second, I want to take your picture. C'mon buddy, just sit on a branch"

The great bird flew over our heads and turned around behind us.

A passerby froze and pointed upwards.

A woman ahead said "Did you see the osprey?"

It was a song I saw swooping, the hum and pulse of an ancient instinct, a drive, two eyes sharpening their gaze to a point. An ear to hear any sound of prey.

The robins and wrens fled.

The great bird flew over our heads and turned around behind us.

"Is that a hawk over there too?"

What could be if they let the grass grow to succession?

The great bird flew overhead and left us.