Saturday, March 4, 2017


The long flight
of a hawk
in a roadbed
as you walk a mile
near the piers
to the distant river
near the Green Mountains
aware of the frozen air
in a Vermont shed
wanting to ice fish
for salmon or smelt
as the sun welcomes us,
just as we wish
the hawk returns to greet me
with night wings
as if sent up
soaring up to the sky
above a river garden bed
to welcome in our fountains
to drink
only God knows why
it felt good in this weather
wishing to have
a feathered friend nearby.

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