a call to arms
the circle invitation
echoes from miles around
from a solitary flyer
high above the flooded
creek near oxfordshire
days of endless rain create
casualties on the ground
ripe for the taking
by just about anything
remotely intelligent
the size of the circle
grows wing by black wing
gaining strength and sailing
like a school of fish
in the overcast sky
once reconnaissance
confirms an opening
the dark circle transforms
into a ruthless carnivore
spiraling toward the earth
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
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