legend of the trojan bird

About

in the ancient city
a moving shadow slowly engulfs the land
no cloud could be this dark
small hands at the window, pressed

growing as it moves nearer
wooden wings flapping, squeaking
lurching and shuddering
in all her dangerous beauty

man and nature
and the nature of man
are seen by the widening eyes of the city
swoop: hover: soar

with the silence of the night descending
for the first, in conversation
with the neighbourhood of stars
the song of the trojan bird is heard.