Eleonora's falcon (my poem)

Balancing atop the white poplar
With no leaves left to hide under
On a day when hunters shoot indiscriminately
You remind us of the great heroine
who saw in you more than a prey bird

My poetry is but an attempt to record feelings. All poems are written in one go. I do not tend to their aesthetic appeal, as that requires extra processing which detracts from my truth in the moment.