Gyrfalcon

A quadrille for the dverse prompt.

Gyrfalcon

Before falls the dark arctic night,
ice-wind moaning
where shattered rocks sprawl,

Gyrfalcon soars, wheels,
sundering the whistling air,
crystal-cold, fierce as hunger.

Life is winter-raw,
white not red,
blood-pulsing beneath the still blue.

Yellow-eyed, all-seeing,
the bird-god enfolds the world
in his wings.