The Christmas Hawk

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

then turning, banking and spinning around… twirling straight into a snow squall,

the mystical grey, high up on the ridge. There was so much joy this day!

A new day filled with hope, and life never ending, declared, openly.

All about the Anointed One, the star lighting the hearts of humans.

She continued to twirl, banking and praising God with her wings

as the snow came down heavily,

and the wind that never ends…..

and somewhere in that wind beyond the tallest oak trees,

she heard a choir singing…..

Merry Christmas!

Poetry and Image Copyright © revised 2020 rivers renewed

Our Prayers from their Wings


Even the hawks know, as they launch our prayers from their wings,

rivers run deep, in the lowest valleys,

running faster, and more beautiful

than ever before. And still waters

run a deeper quiet, bringing us

closer, awakening our spirits

to seek the river, and a hawk

to lift our prayers

from the earth to the sky.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Sweet Dreams

In our dreams, our minds begin their journeys,

bringing us to castles, and hawks

and light drifting, flickering

down empty corridors of stone

and perhaps a lover’s breath

on our cheek

to hide us from the dragon’s wrath,

as our spirits learn to rest

we breathe easier.

Sweet dreams.


Poetry © Copyright 2017, ancient skies


Laughing at the Hawk


A hawk shifts slightly on one of the highest branches, as he listens

to a mouse below burrowing, through last year’s leaves.

A chipmunk jumps here and there, bolder today

due to the density of the fog,

laughing at the hawk, because

all of the creatures know

there will be no hunting

in the forest, today.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

The Rider


There was no saddle, as he gently nudged the horse forward – his favorite, the black and white, long mane so graceful. He shifted slightly, as he looked up and in one magnificent motion, they lunged – attacking the hill, the horse snorting his approval.

They aimed for the ridge, passing the pine trees and spruce. The smell overcame his leather. Higher and higher they climbed, with the muscles of the horse rippling, straining, hooves digging into the earth and rock.

And then they were at the top, where the large oak was on fire with yellow and red. And the eagle waited patiently in the oak, as he had promised. But it was the hawk that gently landed on his  shoulder, that encouraged him the most.

It was then that the poet knew, he was home again.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

Perhaps We Are Two Hawks


In the hawk’s wings I realized I was a writer, perhaps just a few lines,

having been healed, having seen what love can do,

and your courage My Love, strengthened

me. Perhaps we are two hawks

lifting each other.


Do you know how much I love you?


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

Our Wings


My Love and I, were leaning back in our chairs

looking up at the sky, drifting, barely awake

when we saw the wings, the power

of a hawk startling us, against

the blue.


It was over too quickly, as tiny blackbirds chased him

away from their nest, never relenting until

he disappeared. My Love and I joined

our hands, praying for the hawk

vowing never to forget

the power of

our own wings.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

Hawks Singing

Oceans 2031

Hawks don’t sing in the valley, they stay up high

then letting loose, they sing of wings. Some people sing

down low, saying it gives them strength, marching,

but many of us can’t find the stream of faith

we climb instead, scraping, clawing our way up

bleeding and bruised, wondering why

holding on to the mountain, looking for our spirit

and where it should live. Hopefully we continue,

until we are hawks singing, way up high, resting

in the knowledge of who we are, and that we do have,



Poetry and Image © Copyright 2015, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“If you love nature, you will love people.”

Wings III

Wings III

In spite of everything,

I am still flying,

up high,

war wounds, and scars,

cannot bleed anymore,

wings open to the wind,



above my problems,

is it my ability?

No it is the wind,

lifting me up,

under my wings,

His strength,


beyond all my power,

taking me places,

I never would have dreamed of,

strength to go above the storm,

yet gentle,

to coast on the breeze,

a clear day,

or cloudy,


on His love.

Check out this video – you will not be disappointed! Just amazing – watch the second bird too – flying through trees! Awesome!

By the way this is called Wings III because sometime ago I posted Wings and Wings II. They are still on the blog from January.

Blessings to everyone and PEACE!

Poetry © Copyright 2015, nicodemasplusthree

video from youtube

image from google