The voices of raptors

From somewhere among the branches
fall the voices of raptors.
A Cooper's hawk swoops into position
outside the clinic window, interrupting
the business of the day, scaring
a brown-eyed boy balanced
on the scale. The nutritionist gasps,
stops talking of rice cereal and mashed fruit,
startled by the rodent prey dangling from your beak.

The boy curls his toes, jaw dropped,
metal clanks metal beneath his feet.
From somewhere among the higher branches
fall the voices of young hunters
raspy like kittens mewling,
hungry for meat and bone,
sharp talons clamped tight,
awaiting your return.