The Hawk (little poem)

A HAWK

We will never conquer God's creation ...
don't get me wrong,
I know that we have doom upon our shoulder
(whispering to be done with everything)

But here I sit in Atlanta in the upper floor of a Starbucks
looking upon asphalt and builder trees
with a clever brick Verizonwireless neat and prefab
across the street and direclty behind that in my view
is the new Piedmont in beautiful glass and concrete
and then the open sky above them both
and there floats
a HAWK
ABOVE US ALL
eagle eyeing what prey scurries gutters
and dumsters ...
or perhaps yipping on a leash

Jesus, I love your birds.

All those fifth day creations
those manifold flyers
who beat us by 10,000 years
and continue to astound
silver laptop poets
with broken coffee pot brains
wearing headphones and writing about relationships
and thinking about the natives of old
who knew the somber meaning of
A HAWK

Comments

Meghan said…
Love this.

Just read it out loud to Zack.

We especially like it because we gave our little boy the name, Hawke. He is 8 weeks old today.
amy cat said…
I really like this, especially the last verse! Keep writing poetry, Jason!!

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