I watch the hawks -
watching me watching them -
and wonder how many of them I don't see.
They're better watchers:
-stiller
-more patient
-less swayed by boredom.
They stand, cloaked, as if in judgement -
Chief Justice of this street,
roving eyes in search of
one false move.
They are literal swoopers.
I've been accused of "swooping in,"
but I'm - at best - a figurative swooper.
Watch, swoop, catch, repeat...
This entry was posted in Free Verse, poem, Poetry and tagged Free Verse, Hawk, Kite, poem, poetry, Raptor, Vers Libre by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
