Whispering Wind
On my early morning walks, I often search for the red-tailed hawk perched in the topmost branch of a cottonwood. From this vantage point, she scans her hunting ground: a pasture dotted with dandelion and wild chicory. The leisurely motion of grazing cattle might flush out voles, mice, rabbits, and grasshoppers, but today the hawk shows no interest in food, seeming to seek something greater than her next meal. Effortlessly gliding on the thermals, she circles higher and higher, attuned to an unspoken rhythm, while the world below fades away. With each ascent, she draws a part of me with her.
mountaintop
a cloud lets go
into open sky