TIGER!   TIGER!   TIGER!

Out of that cold, clear morning,

the rays of dawn stabbing

like fire tendrils

from the rising sun

touched the wings

of a flock of crows,

wheeling like dark lumps of incense

thrown aloft by a temple priest,

in loose squadrons, low

upon the farthest edge of the island's coast,

Higher and higher,

soaring up upon the thermal wind,

flying, intoxicated by the lush sweetness

of the morning air that bathed

the still quiet of the island beneath.

Soon the thermal current died

and row after dark row

of swooping shapes

descended in a sweeping curtain

low across the pineapple field

as the cold light of early dawn

reached out to embrace the earth

with many chilled

fingers of desultory disregard.

The portent birds seemed unaware

of another flock of silver wings

behind, until the savage roar of

many aircraft engines,

unbearable in their banshee shriek,

startled them into panicked escape,

leaving their sweet fruit

to fly East toward the seaward coast

and disappear, still mindful

of the powerful giant devil

their crowing had disturbed.