Through Storms’ End, Deep Snow,
To A Warm Spring That Runs Clear
All Through the Winter
A Quacking, Flapping
Urgency of Ducks rises, flees.
The Red-Tailed Hawk Stays
He Makes Eye Contact
A Glance Over His Shoulder
Tail Feathers Shaken
He Raises His Wings
As If Stretching and Rises,
Floating Into Air
Effortless, He Glides
By, Holding My Eye, Watching
Silent, Moving, Still
One Circle, Then Two
I am appraised. He is not
Afraid or Impressed
So He Turns His Head
And Slides Away, Mystery
Above the Deep Snow
