Three Hawks Hang in a Steadfast Sky

I just came back from camp, where three hawks (probably turkey vultures actually) would come to visit most mornings, hanging almost motionless over the field despite the breeze that was quite stiff below and must have been even stronger above. I thought they deserved a poem.

Three Hawks Hang in a Steadfast Sky

Three hawks hang in a steadfast sky
To make the vastness still,
And pin their pinnions there on high,
The wind blow as it will.

Three hawks hang in the aching blue
To dip their feathered quill,
And lay the line of heaven true,
The wind blow as it will.

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1 comment
  1. michelle said:

    …and this poem goes well with the first day of school post. beautiful.

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