Scene in a Lincolnshire Churchyard

(500 words) Eyes, beady all-seeing eyes, watched from above as I stood at my father’s graveside. I turned my binoculars to watch the bird circling high above an adjacent field. It was russet with white patches at the end of each elegant, outstretched wing, a span of at least five feet, I adjudged. Although too distant, I knew there to be bold pupils within pale eyes and flared nostrils in a hooked yellow bill. A majestic red kite. Now he (I imagined a male) was gliding effortlessly in a circle - looking for prey, whilst doubtless keeping a wary eye on me.