THE HAWK
With no noise she kills her prey
There is no trace of the killing
Where once stood a little mouse
She leaves for her nest
Where little ones await a meal
A mouse dinner is their meal
What a horrid end for this mouse
To end up in some hawk’s stomach
Here comes trouble another hawk
Yet this is a male
A threat to her young
She spreads her powerful wings
Next you see her in the air
Fighting for the lives of her young
Not caring for her own
The battle ends and she has won
Once more she has risked her life
For the young hawks
Bang!
What was that?
Only the shot of a gun
And down falls the mother hawk
What away to end
On some hunter’s mantel
Stuffed with cloth!
***
What is Poetry Starts?
…poems and prose from now back to teen years
…remembering a first writing love
…pumping the creative well yet again
…silencing the internal critic