We Three Poem by Francis Santaquilani

F.D.R was here.
I saw his photo on a plaque overlooking
The Tennessee River,
Below the Chicamauga Dam.
Five-hundred cubic yards of concrete.

As I bit into my ham sandwich,
I saw a falcon, with a squirrel in its talons,
In a leafless tree, his eyes on me
As his beak became redder and loose fur
Wafted in the damp breeze.
Then we both turned our heads as we ate
To watch a herron swallow a fish whole.
We watched the fish slowly slide all the way
Down its long throat.
The herron, with its beak skyward, seemed to
Savor every last scale.

Then the sirens screamed, the lights flashed,
The flood gates opened and
Then the roar.
Most would be startled,
But not we three.
We never took our minds off of our food.