The first thing I noticed about the golden eagle​

perched in our dead acacia tree was its shadow
falling over mine like a pall. The second was
the cactus wren, still alive in its right claw,
eyes bright with resignation. I didn’t care
that this is nature, in cruel and glorious
tableau. I screamed and ran inside.

When I looked out the window seconds later
the wren’s wing had fallen open like a dropped
shawl, her eyes finished with the metaphor
of vigilance as she was consumed
by her own bad luck and later,
this poem.

Image credit:Krystal Hamlin

Sara Clancy is a Philadelphia transplant to the Southwest.  Her chapbook Ghost Logic won the 2017 Turtle Island Quarterly Editors Choice Award and she is an Associate Editor for Poetry at Good Works Review. Among other places, her poems have appeared in Off the Coast, The Linnet's Wings, Crab Creek Review, The Madison Review, and Verse Wisconsin. She lives in the desert with her husband and daughter, their two dogs a cross-eyed cat and a 24 year old goldfish named Darryl.