The Grey Cloud (Hen Harrier Circus Cyaneus) Poem by john (called jack) wren

A grey cloud sits in pensive mood
on a perch overlooking the merse,
searching intensively its domain
abundant in creatures diverse

Those who slide and eat dust
slither for cover in haste,
Those in a dim state of mind
may soon become untraced.

Feathers fly about in the wind
abandoned in extreme fear
as this violent cloud attacks
dressed like a grey fusilier.

Death is swift for those
He puts to the sword,
Like chalk swiped clean
From a school blackboard
Fast and turbulent is the attack
from this storm cloud of grey
who then calls to his soul mate
to partake in a acrobatic display.

Leaving the warm cosy nest
she hangs beneath his wings
to catch a surprise gift or two
that her grey cloud brings.