A single hawk flies cold above the flowers, <br />Momentum quickly focused by the hour. <br />The mood requires warm bones against the frost, <br />Before the pattern is forever lost. <br /> <br />The shadow of pure flight hallows the ground, <br />Song fitly joined together without sound. <br />Veering is elegant against the pane. <br />Friend, time turns west upon that sunset plane.<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pure-flight/
