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.