The Hunger

From his guardhe spies me and startles to flight, bursting skyward. I feel his condescension as warm wind fuels him aloft, sunlight winking in his wings.

Piercing the sky, his decree (a phantom omen writ in windsong) declares dominion. In concentric circles he rules. From spiraling throne his empire expands beneath him.

He pursues his prey and I mine, hunters, we: I, the poacher, encroaching, invading, my camera, lifting effigies from the land; he, the falcon, fresh death dangling in his grasp.

We fly into the sun, devouring daylight, in separate survivals, allied only in solitude, pursuing sacred among profane - he, regal; I, recalcitrant, insatiate we, rapt and raptor.

The red-tailed hawk is one of the most common raptors in the U.S. More than once I have spied one of these majestic creatures bursting skyward with a rodent's tail lashing from its claws. On my runs around the countryside, I often startle them from their posts. I doubt this is from fright, they seem far more recalcitrant and regal to care, I often feel their brusk condescension as they simply soar toward another outpost. Disturbing their quiet kingdom, I feel somewhat an invader but I sense similarities as well, as though we both pursue to pacify an insatiable hunger, me with my camera, seeking beauty amid barrenness and this rusty-tailed hawk seeking sustenance. We both cling to our solitude. We both desire nourishment. And who is to say mine is merely figurative?

(All photos taken with my Olympus E-PL5 and Olympus M. Zuiko 45 mm lens).

Why I Write Poetry: Full Disclosure (A Poet's Regret)