Kestrel over Concrete

What can she see,
hovering above for a moment,
moving on now, hovering again,
staring down on tarmac and pavement,
car tops and roof tiles,
patios and burnt grass.

She searches hard
the grey ground of this town;
sharp glances don’t slice open concrete.
Driven by a bitter hunger,
she moves on, deeper into town,
deeper into the future.