A soaring eagle may know nothing of God
or Capability Brown.
It does not admire the view.
but spears through the beauty,
lazered only on its prey,
the precision of its wings
appreciated only by man
A suburban garden conceals a coiled spring;
deadly swift arc of hunter.
The terrified, scampering target,
fatally destined for play,
is not aware of an alter ego,
a cat curled before the fire;
a woman offering a saucer of milk.
A snail is deaf to the music of the thrush,
the thrush, blind to the architecture of the snail.
We alone, admire the view,
share the pain.
We, the graceless, the imperfect,
can, if we choose,
walk in another’s shoes.