Buzzards Journey

As a meteor shooting through heavenly skies, like a bloody arrow tip near deaths bay

I glide; my senses are as acute as a floating feather, balanced with the luxurious mountain in which I desire

Mountain as enormous as the face of a drifting moon

Fields as coloured as a bunch of elegant, tribal feathers

And the heart beat of an erupt sun to add the heart stopping sensation

My eyes are as magnified as binoculars gazing into a transparent raindrop gently dropping from leaf

I can view a mice’s fear like fragile glass

But if the distraction of noise, can be broken

I can trance into the eyes of a mighty bull and tell which eye is twitching

Like a grain of sand slowly dropping from hand, I can feel any movement close by, like the eyes of a chess player slowly making their way up the chess board