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The Harrier

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Last night, 
 When I returned from my hunt, 
 A harrier, 
 Made his characteristic 
 Low, undulating sweep 
 Across the low brush.
 
 When something on the ground interested him, 
 He stopped in place 
 In the full hover only the harrier 
 Can accomplish. 
 He was out again this morning.

He has his hunt, 
I mine.

(Lines pulled from my Seal River journal.)

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