I HEAR HAWKS

before I see them
scree scree at regular intervals,
doppler waves sounding the distance
flattened wings circle thermals overhead,

or the chorus of shrilly scolding bird flocks
chasing until it drops its young prey,
or squawking chickens when they see a shadow
of this predator too late to flee,

or the soft unexpected thwup on fence
when it lands, as stunned as I am,
a heart leaping arm’s length away,
eyes devouring me where I stand.

Nancy Shattuck / Farmington Hills, Michigan