The Hawk Poem by Raymond Farrell

Glancing up, I saw the wing spread form
Hoovering to scan the ground below
Searching for rabbits or mice
Moving across freshly fallen snow.

At times an updraft lifted the hawk
And he seemed to soar on high
Only to settle back at a lower altitude
Content to watch the world go by

As I approached he withdrew
With a harsh, shrill cry
Berating me for intruding
But I was only passing by.

There was a time hawks were shot
But now laws protect those of his kind
Could any wish such grace and beauty eradicated
Without first having lost their mind!