I recently read The Peregrine by J.A. Baker and the entire thing was beautiful beyond words. I underlined a bunch, but something that I’ve been repeating in my mind ever since is “the agonised sunlight of its eyes slowly heal with cloud”.

“Near the brook a heron lay in frozen stubble. Its wings were stuck to the ground by frost, and the mandibles of its bill were frozen together. Its eyes were open and living, the rest of it was dead. All was dead but the fear of man. As I approached I could see its whole body craving into to flight. But it could not fly. I gave it peace, and saw the agonised sunlight of its eyes slowly heal with cloud.”

Some of the other parts I couldn’t help but underline were

“Under the wind, a wren, in sunlight among fallen leaves in a dry ditch seemed suddenly divine, like a small brown priest in a parish of dead leaves and wintry hedges, devoted till death.”

and

“A dead curlew lay on top of the wall untouched, breast upward, with a broken neck. The jagged ends of bone had pierced the skin. When I lifted the soft damp body, the long wings fell out like fans. The crows had not yet taken the lovely river-shining of its eyes.”

Really, really recommend it.