Fantasy while serving strawberry-rhubarb pie to my husband and a friend
I close my fists white knuckling a meal
with two human raptors, fiercely competing
for each other, this predating pair
He, a black eagle aiming his stare,
at her, a falcon,
with long inky hair.
I prepare a berry pie, not heeding wise harks,
that serving tarts to the insatiable
is like feeding birdseed to sharks.
The raptors rise on their haunches,
scan the tree line for height,
jump onto a railing, preparing for flight!
The avians scream as they soar,
frightening song birds to flee
their deafening roar.
Up to my chambers I run, to
find my crossbow, a handsome antique,
as is the Swedish Mauser I lift to my cheek.
Flinging open the shutters I aim at the sky,
fire a warning shot
to ensure the creatures comply.
The charged concussion scatters the birds,
a report from my firearm
speaks louder than words!
My dark predators, fallen and bloodied,
creep back to the garden,
subdued but studied.
By me, as we’ll soon see why:
they’re air borne again!
they’re back in the sky!
The eagle scopes a lovely white bird. Sharp eyes
portend his dovely new prize, while
the raven smells fresh flesh and her talons extend.
From my quiver I draw two arrows
and muse to myself…
“I recant my offer to dine this edacious pair, but
I must keep in line escapees from deathly dark vaults,
and take action to end their vicious assaults!”
I ponder them in my sights while draining my quaff,
then release two sharpened darts
to finish them off.