LOST AND FOUND
ACT 1
The hawks are whistling.
Every morning I listen,
wonder, imagine.
The nest, constructed
in a pignut hickory,
is hidden and safe.
ACT 2
Hawks in the city
remind us we are not far
from the wild. Ever.
Are they as aware
of me as I am of them?
I capture moments:
Whistling and screeing,
piercing dives through tree branches,
perching on our fence.
ACT 3
Every hope broken --
hickory falls in the storm.
Hawk home is destroyed.
Morning after. Sun.
Mournful hawks call tree to tree,
"Our babies...lost...gone."
I hear, on day two...
three hawks! Three means one survived!
Next day I see four!
ACT 4
Listen -- can you hear
hawks in your neighborhood trees?
Listen with your heart.
Wonder -- they survive:
paramount in the food chain,
tree top predators.
Imagine -- next year
remind us we are not far
from the wild. Ever.
Are they as aware
of me as I am of them?
I capture moments:
Whistling and screeing,
piercing dives through tree branches,
perching on our fence.
ACT 3
Every hope broken --
hickory falls in the storm.
Hawk home is destroyed.
Morning after. Sun.
Mournful hawks call tree to tree,
"Our babies...lost...gone."
I hear, on day two...
three hawks! Three means one survived!
Next day I see four!
ACT 4
Listen -- can you hear
hawks in your neighborhood trees?
Listen with your heart.
Wonder -- they survive:
paramount in the food chain,
tree top predators.
Imagine -- next year
another nest, another success...
perhaps in your oak.
This "hawku" poem is about hawks. But it couldn't be about hawks if there weren't big trees in our part of the city, as well as plentiful chipmunks, squirrels, rabbits, and possums. So much depends on the natural order of food chains and food webs, plants and animals, birds and insects, clean air and clean water. Let's care for and speak for our tiny corners of the planet. In this way, like a quilt, maybe we can keep the whole thing stitched together. Maybe.
Christie has this week's #fortheloveoftrees - themed Poetry Friday roundup at Wondering and Wandering.