Yesterday,
across some distance -
a marsh
a field
a farm -
too hard to see,
a red-tailed hawk
fought gusts
to glide in the broken
sun, aggressive. Today, in light
rain, he sits on a lonely
limb in a snag, feathers
roughed, still, patient.
I face the rain, chin up,
like I mean it, but
wonder which version
of the hawk I am
today.
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