Circles

I saw four raptors circling

Masters of the sky

Adults and their young?

I’m no ornithologist

But the beat was strong;

Intertwining circles

Like a family’s arms.

And the white splashes

On the underwing of one

Might it be a daughter

Reaching for the sun?

In the woodland cowering

Rabbits hope not

To catch their eye

As feathered brushes

Paint upon the noon sky

Each one’s struggle to persist.

In my mind I see

White splashes in the sun

The roar of engines turning;

Spitfires or Hurricanes

In the battle to exist.