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Small gunshot

 

Between cries and song, a crack folds the afternoon in two. 

Slack air fired forward down the length of a rifle, 

pellet flying skyward towards the murder of crows.

 

I picture the bird falling, black mass tumbling from the tapered tree top. 

Wings no longer lifted by breeze, legs drifting off 

beak closed and tilted as it collides with hard time.

All images © Rob Hesp.

The use of any image from this site is prohibited unless prior written permission from the artist is obtained.

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