The Hawk

June 16, 2012
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I wandered through a foreign wood
Foreign, only for lack of connection -
connection to an omnipotent force called Nature,
whose scope and beauty encompasses all,
but still can only be found by looking.
As I observed the fungus-covered
rocks and ancient trunks, the weaving passages of growing plants,
the murky depths of serene ponds, the mossy shadows
where only deer now tread, their lofty
gazes wondrously looking towards the stars;
Pensively, I too, gazed upwards upon the heavens
as I had strayed into a clearing.
High above me, near the clouds.
Hawks circled, searching,
spiraling, sleek brown feathers gliding
across the air as smoothly as a boat on calm waters.
Vividly, I remember looking at them,
a sudden surge of utter awe
coursed its way through my being.
Now, I can only attempt to instill
that feeling which had filled my soul and body.
I shudder when I think of its powerful thrall
and I remember again the majesty of the Hawk,
who soars above us, with ineffable grace.

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