Monday, 8 September 2008


Rocks slide out of the water, banded greens in lush folds against the dark brown stone, pushing upwards in broken lines. The water is still, glassy, reflecting a darkening sky that rolls overhead threatening a distant rain. The hawks hover, slipping into each other's paths as they seek out anything that might catch their vision with the tight hook of instinct and hunger. One of them dips below the others and suddenly clips his wings inwards, falling faster, before embracing his prey in silence.

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