Poetry

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HAWK©
By Kay Adkins
(copyright January 2000)

Hawk sits stately atop a telephone pole.
His keen eyes secretly survey the ground below.

Cars speed by.
An occasional passenger perceives the majesty of the moment,
And fixes his gaze upon Hawk—
imprinting his mind forever with the image
of the strong and beautiful one.

How unconcerned Hawk seems.
How stoically he anticipates the moment
that Creator will provide his sustenance.
And when the moment arrives
he must act with stealth, efficiency, and immediacy
to seize His provision—be it much or little.
It matters not to Hawk…
every provision excites his instincts equally.

In one swift movement
he dives with speed and grace…
then abruptly alters his angle.
Talons now extend before his torso,
prepared to grasp the blessing of the day.

Sometimes blessing eludes him.
But he is unperturbed.

He reverses course and begins his ascent,
feeling warmth from the pavement rising.
He rides the thermal higher and higher,
sketching ever-widening circles in the sky.
He is free
He is strong
He is beautiful
And wholly dependent upon His Maker.

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