I'm sitting by the window working on one of my digital abstract art pieces. Out of the corner of my eye there is quick sudden movement. Then everything stops.
The sharp-shinned hawk dropped through the sky on silent wings of death.
The unsuspecting dove was feeding, unaware of that passage through the sky.
Hardly before there was time to be afraid and lift into the sky on it's own swift wings,
the sharp talons struck, sinking their needle sharp points deep within the breast and clutching the breast.
It was just moments before all was quiescent, not even a twitch left as life escaped.
The hawk then on swift wings carried the dove high up on a branch
and showered feathers to the air.
Death came down on swift wings and fed again.