A young eagle overhead, slow-circling proudly with his selection gripped firmly in his talons. Swirling, catching sunlight on his wings, he flies to find a table as I watch. Oh my, a bird perhaps, or maybe just a mouse (secretly, I hope it is a vole). Fresh fish from the hatchery?
I hope he doesn’t drop it on my head.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
You know, this writing is just getting tighter and tighter and tighter. Very impressive.
Thank you. Then maybe I won’t stop writing. By tighter, do you mean writing panoramic pictures at an f22 aperture setting?