Patience
I hadn't seen him all summer. And then tonight, in the garden, I looked up, and there he was. Can you spot him?
He sat there taking it all in, the quiet of dusk. I wondered how he could just sit there, unperturbed on that branch in the old willow when surely there were countless voles, mice, and other morsels ripe for the plucking in the underbrush. But then I realized, of course they know he's here. The atmosphere is positively charged with his presence. "Bright power," as Robinson Jeffers wrote, "dark peace."
Everyone but us knows he's here.
After about twenty minutes, he lifted a talon. Poised, as if...
Everyone but us knows he's here.
After about twenty minutes, he lifted a talon. Poised, as if...
And he perched like that for another half hour.
I never saw him dive — the decision, the fast falling in slow motion, and the sudden, perfect death — like a divine flash. Swift and silent as fate. The hawk bears no grudge (unlike the grackles and crows that sometimes gang up on him). These are intersecting geometries, nothing more. He's no agent of justice or retribution.
Just fate. Waiting patiently for its moment.
I never saw him dive — the decision, the fast falling in slow motion, and the sudden, perfect death — like a divine flash. Swift and silent as fate. The hawk bears no grudge (unlike the grackles and crows that sometimes gang up on him). These are intersecting geometries, nothing more. He's no agent of justice or retribution.
Just fate. Waiting patiently for its moment.
The perfect intersection of poetry and prose. Brilliant.
In Paradise all the words of all the writers shimmer. Until then we at least have Mike Mennonno.
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Aaawwwe. (You can pick up your paycheck Friday
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There certainly is a quiet poise in that bird. There is no cacophony, no loud announcement of presence. Just a resting talon, as if he's cracking his knuckles after a long haul of another piece of prey.
Still, it never ceases to amaze me how even the lowliest of creatures know when such a bird is watching them. Some sort of animal-speak sixth sense perhaps?. Clearly something that us humans either ignore, or have lost the ability to have. Thank you for capturing him and sharing him (or her) with us!
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Mike: Looks like you've got your own personal bodyguard to keep the rift-raft out of your precious garden. Perhaps you should give him/her a name?
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