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Above the road-mapped surburban vista,
Where children with toy guns - play brother versus sister,
The Brahminy soars on wings of emotion,
Gently maneuvouring her flight of devotion.
Static electricity hummed, hissed and crackled,
As thunderclouds on the horizon billowed and crash-tackled,
The Brahminy calves through the turbulent air,
Scouring the scrub for todays' bill of fare.
Momentarily she hovers, over vine strapped sand dunes,
Before diving headfirst - her speed - breakneck ruin!
Re-emerging triumphant, all covered with sticks,
She wings her way homeward to feed hungry chicks.
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Like the grasses showing tender faces to each other, thus should we do, for this was the wish of the Grandfathers of the World.
Black Elk
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Clockwise at the Crossroads
