Hawk In Winter

HAWK IN WINTER, A PANTOUM
(GOLD HONORABLE MENTION MAY 5, 1997)
When lightning zigzags past the locust tree,
as graceful as Chinese calligraphy,
crystals on twigs gleam iridescently,
the trunk, like obsidian, glows darkly.

As graceful as Chinese calligraphy
the hawk, glancing below, soars through showers.
The trunk, like obsidian, glows darkly.
In bare boughs are hidden promised flowers.

The hawk, glancing below, soars through showers,
as raindrops, like mirrored mercury, slide.
In bare boughs are hidden promised flowers,
tender twigs, new green leaves. Aloft she glides.

As raindrops, like mirrored mercury, slide,
hawk wheels, looks through the tree. She cannot see
tender twigs, new green leaves. Aloft she glides
around the dripping wet, rain-darkened tree.

Hawk wheels, looks through the tree. She cannot see
through the thick, white mist drifting in the air
around the dripping wet, rain-darkened tree.
Winter, chilly winter, is everywhere.

Through the thick, white mist drifting in the air,
crystals on twigs gleam iridescently.
Winter, chilly winter, is everywhere
when lightning zigzags past the locust tree.

Elizabeth Southwood
May 1997