When they hear it,
some hear anger,
rife with seething,
inner rage
in that Red Tail’s
screeching call.
But as for me,
I hear hunger
in that hollow,
banshee cry.
It’s clear to see
some hear that too
as sparrows flee,
diving for cover,
to avoid her
fierce embrace.
Yet foolish dove,
cooing, trusts her
And I have yet to fathom why.
Aroil in Pain 