of dead hawk still warm,
the day’s tedium and irritation forgotten.
Death throws light, as life offers life.
Carrying bustle to calm
one of feather, talon, beak and bone,
expired oak reaches out arms.
Here, by trunk split to earth-
as if through lightning visitation-
raptor rests to place
without roadway and hustle,
whole in transition.
Scavengers will find their next meal,
minerals will return to dust.
Envisioned flight prepares to come again.