This morning, while walking the dog, I hear the hawk screech overhead

she cries out like a mother

circling in the silky sad sky, ’round and ’round,

the sun brightening her wings as she angles and glides in the wind

she’s following us- I swear she is!

us trekking up the cul-de-sac hill and back down again

the dog stopping to sniff

me straining to see

Mother spinning above

Mother spinning below

I know birds aren’t angels

but I get the message

Read more musings