New breezes squeaking in the trees
But only a chosen few observe
That hawk circling high above us
Three times it hung in place
Fluttering for a moment still
Then fell in slow perfect curves
Spelling out some code or name
Did it signify our dead friend's
Embodiment in its wings
Just for a few bends and turns
Showing off for us
Her new freedom from the earth
Her grace and balance compared
To our bent necks and straining eyes
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment