The hungry Hawk

The hungry Hawk

Will still hunt in the rain

Waiting, not flying

Cleverly concealed

Hunkered up close

To the trunk of a tree

Sheltered from the worst of it

Eyes sharp as tacks

Scanning near and far

Looking for a straggler

The bedraggled and woebegone

Caught in the mud

Their coats soaked

Right through

Hypothermia creeping

Closer with every freezing drop

Cold-blooded vermin

Make the raptor sing

Did you ever hear of such a thing

The Eagle peels like

A church bell

But there is little musicality

Heed its warning

Go to ground

Never linger for an echo

It is not the first to tell

Of danger

Clean of feather

Not of heel

A swish and it is dry

A well-oiled overcoat

A skilled professional

Not a vigilante

Or a sociopathic lynching

Killing is not a pastime

But a lifeline

Fly as soon as ready

Do not be the prey

He will see you first

There will be no

Second sight

Heed the warning

It is mentioned

In the whisper

Of a deep dive

When the Hawk

Feels most alive

And the hunted,

Close to death