He Has My Wings

A Poem inspired by Jarvis Masters

Photo by Vincent van Zalinge on Unsplash

A hawk landed
on the rail post of the deck.
I ran out with a cry —
“No!” —
my chickens scratched beneath him,
and small birds crowded the feeder.

The hawk turned
looking unconcerned
as if to say,
“Where’s the fire?”

The hawk paused
then opening his wings
he, without effort,
left my deck.

The hawk gone
my heart pounded
and my brain computed
“What a magnificent creature!”

The hawk may never return
to allow me to be so close,
he, whose kin soared above this land
long before I was ever here.

The hawk saw me
with the eyes of a wise sentient being.
I saw him as bad “other”
until I remembered
we are both made of stardust
and
that hawk has my wings.