Wind Rover

Still,
still,
head stock still
while fingers of heat, raised up
to caress my downy plume,
gimbal me and hold aloft
my obdurate observation
Down
my quilled sweep
rapidly whirs
while eyes track
through grass,
over stone
There!
Down!
I see you now!
I will hang steady
with effortless demeanour
though without
those invisible breathy hands
I could not prevail
Down…
Down…
Drop!
The callous scimitars
that lead me earthward
hail you, bringing tidings of
a singular minacity
though I bear no malice
I have one purpose
Kill!