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.