Almost the exact opposite

of those birds you hear

singing in nearby hedges,

but can’t see:

             this hawk,

perched on a low-hanging branch

unobscured by leaves,

its talons sunk in grey fur.


When the hooked beak drops –

hydraulic digger breaking ground,

typhoon gutting a beach house –

the squirrel


tap dancing, electrified,

but the picture is muted,

scene without soundtrack.