He had never seen a sparrowhawk this close. Three metres at most, as he camouflaged himself behind Aloe Vera’s across his window. Blue silvered wings shrouded her prey. Powerful limbs and speckled chest absorbed dawn sunlight.
Peck by peck she dismantled. A carpet of young pigeon feathers laid to confirm her regal status. His slight twitch alerted her. Sparrowhawk and carcass gone. Upstairs, his 6 a.m. alarm, a lament for a grieving mother, floated through the Mede.
2 thoughts on “Before the Heatwave”
This is great. It has a meticulous feel to it, very deliberate in its pacing, seemingly not a word out of place. Nice work indeed.
Thanks, Jan. I am glad you enjoyed the piece. One of those where the balance was in the editing, so pleased you picked up on that.