The direction of flight and the wing’s

flutter confirm the origin of fire

still raging in your ear.


The kick and bite of a .340 Magnum—

a brutal entrance.  The world—

a freeze and a cringe, a fox


in full leap, suspended in time,

the physics of resistance, acceleration and fall,

fused, and you


pinned to the edge

beyond the clearing, still listening

to the wind creeping through dawn.