photoart: ralph murre
Suspended
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
