“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

11.02.2009

Hawk

I stood under an almost empty catawba tree Saturday,
a red-tailed hawk just a few feet above me,
so close I could count his feathers.

The neighborhood was silent,
the birds finding hiding places,
or staying still where they stood,
the squirrels disappearing into the trees.

It was a powerful few moments
and I stood below him as I stood below the 5 owls last year,
adjusting my breath to his,
finding a moment of meditation in the suddenly quiet street,
in a patch of welcome sunshine
near a tree I know raccoons call home.

There was no one around,
everyone taking a last afternoon breath
before the awakening of Halloween night.
Just me and this hawk.
Just us.
In silence.

When he left,
almost landing in a neighbor's back yard,
then flying fast and low across other lawns,
south into other trees,
I stayed for a moment,
until I heard a bird sing the all clear
and I began to move with the other inhabitants of our block.
we are one at times like these

7 comments:

  1. Beautiful moment, beautiful photo~ xx Vicki

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  2. How wonderful to synchronize so perfectly... such magic.

    This image strikes such a chord in me - swoooooon!

    :-)

    (((hugs))),
    love,
    me

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  3. love these words. i can feel the magnitude of this moment - the power in it.
    and just as well this a strong photo too - it speaks to me.

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  4. i like your words under Lindsey Lane. children come two by two as animals. : )

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  5. What a lovely post. I held my breath as I read it!

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  6. I can just hear the birds singing out the all clear. I love that sound nearly as much as I love the twilight bark.

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  7. Isn't it a wonderful feeling? To be at one with nature?

    As much as I love your words, always always do, I am so in love with this picture! It is simply stunning in its simplicity. All that light against the dark.
    I love it so.
    xo

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come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .