Sunday, June 10, 2012


photoart: ralph murre

by David Scheler

From the wooden observation tower
the green solace of summer
drifts over the watershed ––
lush valleys and hills
roll through fields
then disappear in mist
of the horizon.

The hawk holds the sky
under his wing
on twilight breeze;
he neither descends
nor rises on wind,
tethered like a kite
on invisible string.

These silent moments drift away
as Venus descends.
But the hawk
lingers on the waft
as sunset folds into the night.

~ previously published in The Aurorean