Hawks
Wandering along the winding trail I watch as hawks play
ducking and diving, swooping and tumbling and climbing
up again, making a magnificent display backed by their
shrill cries to each other
Riding the thermals
climbing up in unison
wild spirits air bound
They have three fledglings to rear, so back to hunting
they go, sharp eyes spotting the rustle in the undergrowth
wings folded they plunge down like raining bullets
striking hard they carry it back to the nest to feed the chicks
Three fluffy small chicks
baby plumage now changing
they look so scruffy
Now fully feathered they flap and stretch their wings
then first one takes to wing finding it hard to land
it misses its mark a few times, at last alighting
undignified on a branch
New generation
one day they too will have chicks
and so the cycle goes
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