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The Unknown

by
 Ye aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown
Who lies here with no stone to mark the place.
As a boy reckless and wanton, Wandering with gun in hand through the forest Near the mansion of Aaron Hatfield, I shot a hawk perched on the top Of a dead tree.
He fell with guttural cry At my feet, his wing broken.
Then I put him in a cage Where he lived many days cawing angrily at me When I offered him food.
Daily I search the realms of Hades For the soul of the hawk, That I may offer him the friendship Of one whom life wounded and caged.

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