The hawk clutched a rodent in its talons
tightly, not wanting to give it up.
The hawk eyed me wearily, as if I might take
its breakfast for myself.
Those red eyes pierced my soul to the
quick and saw me.
Those eyes bored into me before the
hawk took off into the trees.
Snow fell and the leaves whispered
as the hawk’s wings brushed by
with its prize in its claws.
Satisfied.
About the Creator
Fiona Howell
I'm Fiona Howell, an Irish musician and author living in New Hampshire, US. I have three books out on Amazon: The Locked Box, Blackwood, and The Promised Kind. I have three poems published in anthologies by the Peterborough Poetry Project.
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