Zen Sandwich

I am eating my zen sandwich by the side

            of a blue lake . I hear the sound of

                        two wings flapping .

A fawn falcon plunges down the side

            of the volcanic cone , its claws extended

like the landing gear of a plane .

As it skims across the surface — a sail-winged

             skater —- the talons lacerate the taut

                    skin of that lake . It bleeds blue .