All morning, her cries slice through the sparkling arias of woodland songbirds. Before heading back indoors, I shield my eyes against the summer rays as she glides and swoops across piercing desert skies like one of Coelho’s omens. Alas, today I see she is unable to fulfill her destiny of a convenient midair snack when talons miss a quick-thinking target. While stirring my coffee in the kitchen, I turn to clock a noiseless brown bundle shuffling around in exasperation among tufts of dewy garden grass. The sparrowhawk’s irises glare amber, burning fury into mine through the window. I daren’t breathe.
Vicki Leigh is a UK-based writer whose work is featured by Comma Press, Globe Soup, and Fusilli Writing’s Flash Fiction Competition. Writing is like exhaling for her. Instagram and X: @vickiwritesmcr