You are hungry and you prepare,
To dive upon songbirds unaware,
If they'd known they'd have taken flight,
From the silent hunters of the night.

You hear the mouse far below,
Ready to feast, you sweep so low,
But hear your family pass above,
And hurry to rejoin those you love.

Your sharp eyes identify,
From so high above you fly,
A tuft of fur; a rabbit's, a hare's,
Soon it will line the nest that is yours.

You feel the fur of the prey you caught,
If it had stayed underground where it aught,
Your growling stomach would go unfed,
Until the daybreak made your bed.

Blissful aromas bless your beak,
They drift up from the hares that reek,
Soon you will land; you will eat and break,
Until then your stomach continues to ache.

Plumetting to the ground with your meal,
It tastes so good you'd almost steal,
When you are finished, you leap to the skies,
Eager to hunt and restock on supplies.

You are the perfect predator,
You hone your talons in joyful fervor.
Knowing the havoc that they wreak,
They are the terror of the weak.