Talons; long and sharp,
wrapped around his unknowing prey
in one claw.

His legless servant gripped in the other, right?

Feathers; broad and proud
brushed out wide, the ends curling tight with threats.
Ready. Violence, in a birds-eye view.

With one deathly cry, he swoops and  
one claw deftly draws the snake
towards the other.

The prey squeaked in the left, attacked,
and finds her cry lost in the tough, old bird’s scream.

He misjudges his attack.
He is found dead with a wound in the left hand,
where the girl had been.

In the distance, flying above.
We see two owls, lean and wise, one quicker than the other,
deliver their news.