I saw a hawk this morning from my car.
I’d pulled in to a lay-by for a rest.
The journey north had tired me. So far
I hadn’t paused. I wasn’t at my best.
That’s when I saw the hawk. Poised, riding sky,
it hovered like a kite held by a string.
The sudden wonder of it swung me high.
My brain, my body, all, began to sing.
I felt the blood run coursing through my veins.
The raptor’s quiver fixed me in a trance.
It seemed to be restrained by ghostly reins,
a savage puppet in some feathered dance.
Yes, even now I see it hanging there,
sustained by unseen forces of wild air.