Pursuing nothing, you had made no sound.
I had focused on the absences in rock
and turned my back on each, till turning round
to what was left, your presence, I took stock
and settled on where nothings weren’t, and found
you guarding eggs. A nesting raven cock!
Your study made you steadfast, but you screamed
when I seized you by your neck. I had not dreamed
cock ravens could be captured on a mountain,
setting on six eggs on stony ground.