White-Tailed Kite

She danced there in the milk-glass sky, denying gravity, quietly watching for a tell-tale movement in the grass, a possible meal. Sharp eyed, she waits for that movement to translate into one quivering blade of grass, one more and then another. She will drop, suddenly, as all of her bird of prey relatives do, converting that movement in the grass into a mouse or vole. Food for her or perhaps her nestlings.