Looking Up

Two buzzards
Wheel and soar
Upon twin springs
That mating brings.

More mournful
Than the curlew's cry
Their scratching squeal
Across the sky.

Beneath the thermal
Air is still
As morning sun
Slips off the chill.

And suddenly as one
They slide across the sky
Towards the church spire
And they’re gone.

When the time has come
To leave this place
I won’t forget
To shut the gate.

JL April 2nd 11:49