Riva Land by Sofia Björkman

Near me, a bird of prey nests. A large resident bird with a broad wingspan and sharp gaze. It flies silently but leaves traces on the ground. There are feathers and bones, white, gray, and brown fluffy tufts that it scatters around. Sometimes it can be seen sitting still on a cliff or a bare branch. I sneak to see, the noise around quiets, my gaze sharpens. I wander in the landscape and look around. Trees fall when the storm hits or when humans clear. The bird flees, I remain.