The Hawk Poem by Gert Strydom

The hawk cries out from the electric line
up high on the mega-power mast
from where it watches everything below
and the people that do pass on the nearby road.

Like an exclamation mark it stands out
against the cobalt blue sky
while it flies up to the high wind streams,
straining its muscles in its long wings
that is adapted for the struggle
against the force of gravity
and it starts to turn in its own designated gyre
while it does scan everything below

and with its strong feet with curved sharp talons
and beak it's the perfect killing machine
for whatever it does designate as prey
be it a insect, rodent, small bird, mammal or reptile
on which it does swoop down with speed,
do seize and rip into pieces

© Gert Strydom