Hawk

The hawks are dancing with the sky,
Singing with heaven's loft,
Where we walked the crimson Fall.
Rest my letter, watch the show.

They cast a shadow of harm down,
Like our planes over the desert's sands,
Dropping desolation's gift,
Cruel wide no mirage.

Where I wished isolation to write,
Nature knew my heart's pang,
Swallows swooping seat my eye, calm.
For a moment, I'm alive.

Faster than I could pen,
flame of thought,cross the page,
Feathers against the pale blue sky.
Anger, sadness suddenly inside.

My mind suddenly frozen fast
In the heat, melting
My words lock on this letter.
Put it down, watch the sight.

18 June 04.

~Dave~

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