Nighthawk Prey

Running through the cornfields eating fallen kernels of dry. harvest corn
My scurry interests my enemy above, while the slivery snake passes me by
The cotton tail rabbit hops to her underground nest of bunnies she hides
A small baby quail finds its mother in a brush pile, nearly dusk and the river muskrats stir the waters
Perched high on an oak branch is a fierce red tailed hawk awaiting his next meal for nature supplies not always well
As the nighthawk shall prey
Blood thirsty for flesh attacking with bones crushed,  cries for life but riddled with blood dripping to the earth
The feast of the phantom its eyes glare to dare the chase
Embraced in a taste of endurance it gives strength to the bird of prey
It is called survival