The Hawk

The hawk flies high upon the sky his dinner there to seek. His home the woods along the river- now subdivisions complete. But he’s not down because he’s found more places yet to dwell. Just look around and you will find a feast that’s sweet- I tell. Upon a tree in our back yard he stands- much patience he bestows. Look around, the food abounds, of this he greatly knows. His nest is near, and all is clear that hunting is sublime. Rabbits and quail, doves and mice, plus starlings he yells are mine. In this area of much to choose, the clime is just so right Snow does not quell his daily hunt or his fearless flight. Streetlights are fine to view his space, to observe so neat. When winter comes he will not run. He does not know retreat. For snow and cold he holds no fear, forever on the prowl. His eyes are sharp. He flies high, knowing there’s plenty of fowl. He circles the trees gliding high, to descend on what he sees. He knows his strength is in surprise, but proudly sits some trees. He zooms in like a bombardier to birds I daily feed. Now he occasionally finds a squirrel upon to take his need. My little birdies I do love. I hate to see them scatter. Pretty soon I do believe my window they will shatter. The hawk is gold and brown to red, majestic is his stance. He’d better get the squirrels and leave my birds, or we still may dance. They are part of the circle of life, and endangered yet may be. So I will put my slingshot down and not scare them away, you see. Instead I’ll watch Darwin’s Dance to see who wins the treat. Already the doves get up before dawn- my birdseed so smart to eat. It’s quieter then, no hawks in view, they eat peacefully what they see. The hawks are fast, but little birds do know to hide among the trees. My little birds’ jump from branch to branch- the hawks are slower here. And when the hawk does come about, the others quickly disappear. But do not count him down and out. The hawk is king you see. Though he still loses from time to time, he’s adapted and still is free. And like the smaller little birds, he gets enough to eat. I’m sure he’ll be here years to come. He is tough to beat. CSEastman 9-30-2011