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