Wild

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.