There's a hawk
Outside my window
Playing catch with
Field mice;
Once he's caught them
Then he eats them
Or takes some home
To his wife.
I can't say whether
He's a He,
He may be She
For all I know;
I've seen Her swooping
Down from skyward
In the early
Morning snow.
It's flit, flat, flutter -
Stay in one place,
Make sure that
She's spotted well
Before she takes off
Like a diver:
Aim and miss
She'd end in Hell.
With so much feeding
Nature frenzy
All so close to
Where I sit,
I wonder sometimes
If I'm playing
Into Hawk's old
Hands a bit,
Because I see
Him, give Her
Credence, like that
Tree that's fallen down:
Can't help but watch
This savage subject
Of a Queen with
Nature's crown.

rjw, 5/2/97

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