Hawks dash in the light wind.
This day’s air so quiet til now.
My days end watching how
they spar over the treetops.
moving with the invisible.
They swing and head down
to still air near me in this glen.
I know about that race inside of them.
My claws would curl too.
I understand how they might enjoy
spreading a feathered terror
while sweeping through the high places
where all look up.