hawks – Rivers Renewed

His Hawk Heard the Prayer

From a distance his hawk heard the prayer, strong wings just in time lifting,

carrying his heartsong

into the heavens.

As Wind Song Moves Through the Pine Trees

As wind song moves through the pine trees, I can hear hawk wings descending

out of the clouds, and I finally let go of those phrases

I carried as a prayer, shifting and shaping them,

will it be a poem?

as another feather drifts,

to the Earth

from the blue sky.

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?

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!

In Winter Hawks Fly Low

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In winter, hawks fly low bending, turning the air

brushing their wings with pine trees

so they can smell like…

Christmas.

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.

Note: Sometimes small things are more beautiful.

Into the Cold Light

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When leaves whither,

and the brilliance of autumn fades

hawks fly

into the cold light

of the winter sun.

Fish Hawk Morning

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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.

Sun Kissed Leaves

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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.

Dreamscaping

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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”.

Category: hawks