poem

Kathleen Jamie Hawk and Shadow

I watched a hawk
glide low across the hill,
her own dark shape

in her talons like a kill.



She tilted her wings,
fell into the air –
the shadow coursed on
without her, like a hare.

Being out of sorts
with my so-called soul,
part unhooked hawk,
part shadow on parole

I played fast and loose:

keeping one in sight

while forsaking the other.

The hawk gained height:

her mate on the ground

began to fade,

till hill and sky were empty,

and I was afraid.