By Kathryn Liebowitz
Does the bird make sacrament
of its meal still warm
on the ground?
Does the bird’s eye compose the moment
into a many-meaninged mirrored microcosm—
Sky, grass, twigs, bones, and blood;
triptych or prayer?
Does the bird tear at its victim
with a sense of the unspoken
of it all?
Does the bird have a mind bent
on seeing through the hourglass
into the molecular dance
of butterflies and worms?
Copyright © 2008 by Kathryn Liebowitz.