poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
In the cool grey dawn, a wing dipped down,
testing the waters, slicing the autumn air
banking to the right
moving through the rain
with deadly precision
diving,
while rays of sunlight peek
through the clouds,
a fish captured
to feed her family.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Sun kissed leaves at the top of trees in the cooler air
where the hawk bathes his feathers
in the sunlight perched
on a large branch
sometimes stretching his wings
to scare the chipmunks
below.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
And I saw the edge of a hawk’s wing filled with wind,
while the crow lived in the shadows waiting his turn,
but within a whisper
I was brought back to earth,
the smell of lavender and vanilla,
My Love rolling over,
planting a kiss on my cheek.
Her smile saying,
“Good morning”.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
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
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
Sagebrush as I walk through the tall grass
my fingertips reaching,
a feather falls from the sky
and the hawk yells,
“Good morning, my brother!”
his shadow covers me
as I lift my eyes,
searching the sky.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
It’s not that his soul was lost, he simply refused
to back down
when the hawks began to stare,
as he allowed his spirit
to take off,
through the pine trees.
To this day,
songs can be heard
in the distance
floating
in the western wind.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
