anything for the eyases

On a sunnier day, I’d sit
out on that bench
with my notebook, penning a poem,
hawk soaring overhead,
hunting breakfast for his babies.
I’m no falconer
but can appreciate his good looks
and care of his nest,
zeroing in on his prey--
Oops. Maybe I’d better go in now.

50 words on the scary shit outside my office window for Words Count With Mama Zen in the Imaginary Garden.