The hawk, flying aloft this cold morning, <br />was a ghosting blur on the frosty pane <br />of violet blues' crisping chilled sunrise. <br />It sliced to the roof of the backyard shed, <br /> <br />and cast shadow over grassed diamonds. <br />Perched, eyed movement, taloned early breakfast, <br />having found nothing the warm day before. <br />For all things small had burrowed, in knowing <br /> <br />the night would bring challenge, testing of life, <br />surely as dawn would, when hunger drove them <br />into the unfed field of the lone hawk. <br />Lifting into the sky, small eyes watched it, <br /> <br />peering from under the boards of the shed. <br />Shelter they would leave soon, ranging for food.<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hawk-and-the-shed/
