I don’t know how it will end. I know it will never end. All is life and death, famine and glut.
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Maybe this is a fairytale with a happy, only slightly macabre, ending.
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This is why the hawk is so beguiling. It is a wild in my domestic life. Amongst all the tidiness and comfort it reminds me that hunt and be hunted is part of who we are.
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She was silhouetted against the darkening sky. Her legs hung loosely below her; thick, puffed things that make me think of bloomers, with thin bony shins and feet. I could even glimpse her talons…
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