When I Am a Hawk

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You can still see the wind move through my feathers,

wings outstretched, holding

some dried blood now

but I can still bank to the left,

then right,

moving through the heart of the mountains,

and even in the dark clouds

I focus more on the river,

always the river,

so I can see again, going beyond,

what we know 

the ruins

of our world.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

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12 thoughts on “When I Am a Hawk

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