The wind is not yet awake
Patience, eyas. The wind is not yet awake.
Wait for its breath to rise and turn
till you can scoop the air
under pointed wing.
Your eyes are not windows, but walls.
Enamelled with anger,
watchful, siege-ready; mistrust
kept safe behind ashlar and buttress.
Although the frosts snap at your feather buds
the spathes will grow curved and strong.
When the barbs lock firm to collar the wind
then, eyas, we’ll be ready to begin.
Eyas: a young hawk, especially (in falconry) an unfledged nestling taken from the nest for
Currently living in Hertfordshire, UK, Anna Milan’s poems have appeared in publications such as Under the Radar, Eye Flash Poetry, Black Bough Poetry and Ink Sweat & Tears. @annamilanwrites