She spreads her wings,
Jumps into the air,
Ascending effortlessly.
In slow, thoughtful circles,
Scans the ground for
A furtive flash.
Light and free, and hollow-boned
Gliding on thermals
Above the vast, gray-brown prairie,
A sharp-eyed bird of prey,
Soaring unencumbered through the crystalline air.
She flexes sharp talons & her hooked beak,
Screeches with pure invigoration
Swoops towards the earth,
To grace a worn, crooked fencepost
In the silence of that infinite, barren place
Where time is measured by the beat of angel wings.
I've just commented on your first Hawk - the one with the blood and guts. They are both superb, this has more of the grace of Vaughan Williams, the first, the power of Mahler. I'm glad you've kept 'hollow-boned' and 'where time is measured by the beat of angel wings'. Your writing is exceptional. Looking forward to more. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful imagery. I like to think of time being measured by angel wings.Take care. Warm regards, Sandra