the hawk's gift

the hawks

here glide

on the wind,

wings outstretched,

spread wide,

belly bared,

sharing their talent,

their brilliance,

their gift

I grab my camera

they are gone,

dropped down

below the hill

to my left,

essence of the hawk's brilliance is left ...

I wait for them

to mount again

upon the breeze,

but they are gone

they do not consent

to their capture,

even if only in digital form,

in this metal box a camera,

they have been warned,

a voice an intuition,

speaks to them,

all that is left is the wind

and it laughs at me

you foolish girl

still foolish

after all these years,

it laughs at me,

chides me,

warns me

to accept gifts that are

but for a moment,

not forever

gifts cannot be grasped

and held,

they are freely given

must be freely received

accept with thanks the gift

let the gift do it’s work

the hawks are sharing

say thank you …

thank you

my cameral lays still 

on the table

and they come again

I reach for it

they dip quickly

hiding from this trap

my hands pull back

they stay this time

my heart breathes thanks