Aztec, Harvest Moon Eyes.
Inky pupils, set in to a blizzard of a face.
Carved snowstorm, with a plaintive cry.
Beak lost in plumage- upturned canoe breaking waves,
that surge through feathered currents.
Swinging head to track pinprick movements,
Feeling every swirl of air on her grey-flecked self.
Copyright Tom Tide 2018