It's Still Life

Four Days of a Hawk in Woburn Forest

On Monday,
a falcon took a pigeon
who was lost
in its own little snowstorm.

On Tuesday,
we discovered the falcon
was a hawk.

On Wednesday,
the hawk fell fast on a rat,
its eye and tooth and bone
quenched no appetite.

On Thursday,
the hawk swung a single arc,
and straddled a happy little rabbit
on the hill.

That same afternoon
the hawk fell a blackbird
whose flute played
just one last tune.

This morning,
we found a hawk in the ditch,
its flame quenched,
its light gone out.

Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.