green heron on the pond
stabbing mud minnows, stickle backs.
how do they feel sliding
down your throat. do they attempt to breathe
in your belly. i wonder
what they see in that darkness
before it goes blank. they must be stunned
by the initial blast of your beak like a bomb
cripples a building…it leans,
falls, lands on you
Don Farrell lives in Cambridge, MN, with 3 sons, 2 dogs, and other critters, where land transitions from forest to prairie. He holds a monthly open mic at The ARC Retreat Center in Stanchfield, MN, and a bi-weekly Zoom poetry critique group. He hopes to leave this planet without getting what he deserves.
Interested in submitting to the 365 Collection? Complete your submission here during the last two weeks of National Poetry Month.