Poems of a Feather
Hawk Watching
July 15, 1994
We stood on South Mountain,
watching a hawk catch thermals
under his outstretched wings,
rising in slow spirals
like smoke rings
from a fire
deep in the valley below.
The hawk widened his circle,
his shadow crossing your face.
I watched your eyes soften,
touched by his freedom,
and felt your hand tighten on mine,
as suddenly I recalled
my own dreams of flying.