Hawk

She sits on the grass, just sits and sighs.
As the hawk flies his perch in the tree...
With a soft swish of sound, he wings into the sky
On a mission that only he knows.

A pang of loss tears through her heart, unprepared,
As he goes.

She reflects on his flight towards the places birds go
When they search for their substance and soul.
She wistfully thinks of the time that he needs
To glide and soar, heedless and free

Then she steps through the grass, and into the woods
Towards home.

The trees have gone gold, and the stream is cold
And her path has grown tangled with weeds.
She stumbles on stones, and plucks a late flower
But her eyes are drawn to the sky.

The clouds there glow bright, with a tinge of the sun
Shining through.

But the hawk can't waltz and the girl can't fly
Her raw heart speaks through her eyes
For this world has rules, and nature provides
For each to stay with his own.

Soon daylight will wane, and the hawk will come home
To his tree.