Summer Hawk

Yesterday a red shouldered hawk sat on my fence

his yellow talons gripping the black rail,

and I wondered why he stopped beside me

beside the window an arm’s breadth away

where we could peer at each other, see ourselves

in each other’s eyes, imagine the wingspan of our flight.


Was it I who visited his morning or he who visited mine

or in this season of rolling warm summer we were accidently met?

I will say this: in his sharp sight I saw the day as possibility

and the night as a ribbon between his beak. I saw flight

and rest as ways of living on the earth, and the space

between us only a matter of where the sun stood

lighting our eyes, recognizing our gaze while the grass

lay wet from the early hour and the trees breathed awake.


Mary Lautzenhiser Bellon



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