She shook herself and preened

Perched on a high log

Above the high-grass predators

Clear of the tangles below


Steel-spring legs ready

In the air in an instant

Two wingbeats enough

To escape any threat


I left her there in the window

Moved back to the mahogany table

Thinking how our lives

Are the same


We perch on our logs and scan

Predators abound

But there’s no life without spice

And we can still preen.