Hawk Poem
Lately I have been reading lots of poems about hawks.
There are three poems with hawks in the 2021 Best American Poetry book, alone.
And rightly so, I suppose. I mean, who wouldn’t want to read about a hawk?
I know I did. Gobbled those hawk poems right up.
So today, I went in search of a hawk to write about.
All damn day I walked around town looking for hawks.
I looked for hawks in trees, on the peaks of roofs, atop every telephone pole.
I searched the forest. I walked along the river.
I even checked for hawks in the Showdown Bar while I sipped a midday beer.
Not one freaking hawk to be found.
Saw boatloads of grackles and dozens of cardinals. I saw finches and wrens.
And on the shoulder of Hunter Road I watched five turkey vultures eating roadkill.
Now that was one helluva scene; which I would love to tell you all about.
But when was the last time you read a poem about some damn turkey vultures?