As the Wind Moves Over the Hawk’s Shoulder

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A solitary feather is lifted as the wind moves over the hawk’s shoulder.

Chipmunks are breathless as the mountains bask in the sunlight.

Yet the hawk turns his head, to listen to a murmuring sound close by.

A lone figure praying in the shadows, near the top of the mountain.

Peace is seldom easy, so the hawk kept silent, honoring his descendants, he turned away. 

Weren’t humans descended from birds of prey?

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, 2020, ancient skies   

Influenced by Native American stories of creation. 

The Christmas Hawk

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She loved the way the cold air filled her feathers on Christmas Day. First through the blue skies,

and then as she turned, and banked and even spun around twirling straight into a snow squall,

high up on the ridge. There was so much joy this day! A new day filled with hope, and life never ending, declared……openly.

it was all about the Anointed One, the star lighting the hearts of humans. She continued to twirl, banking and turning,

praising God with her wings as the snow came down heavily with the wind that never ends……

and somewhere in that wind beyond the tallest oak trees……she heard a choir singing…….

Merry Christmas everyone!

If you have a different faith I’m so glad you’re here. Peace and wonderful blessings to you as well!

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Sunset of December

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I was up high in the sunset of December

with shadows of tree limbs covering

and hawk wings flying over,

giving me a wild feeling untamed

yet I turned back to the valley

having surrendered, with dreams

of a hot cup of tea,

and My Love cooking

some spicy noodles.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Note: Sometimes small things are more beautiful.

The Hawk Ascends

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A perfect union of earth and sky, drawing me in,

calling forth who I once was

before the ruins descended.

I take a knee,

remembering

letting go now of the prayer

I’ve been carrying

for so long, eyes closed

my back lurches and my wings extend,

unfolding

as my spirit reaches

into the clouds.

Note: Is he human or is he hawk? It’s hard to tell sometimes. 

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Our Place Within the Sky

Red-tailed from Audubon

In the splendor of the Earth, and all that was made, within brown and white tones

of hawk feathers, we find ourselves in awe really

of creation, both its beauty and strength, and we wonder

of the power of wings, the sharpness of the eyes

the shape of talons, curious

of where we belong,

and our place within the sky.

 

Poetry  © Copyright 2019, ancient skies, image from Audubon