ODE TO A COOPERS HAWK
Come to me.
Come to me,
Winged celestial beauty.
Come to me with your notched
Your silken roll of feathers.
Fly down into my hollowed-out soul,
Fill me with your sun-warmed glory
Nestle in my arms
And bring the curve of the horizon
Embraced in your outstretched wings.
I need no white bearded prophet,
No mumbled prayer, no gospel song
No hard church bench, no fast or
Festival to feel close to the Divine.
The glory of the universe,
Is embodied in your flight
As you tumble through heavens,
Ride the invisible thermals
Screech with joy at freedom
Fill your lungs with thin air
And play bumper car with an Eagle.
No hollowed bones to launch me,
Just tired soul weighed down,
No soft plumage feeling the course
Of wind through glossy feathers,
No hunting call to herald my presence.
My soul takes flight
The breeze lifts my spirit,
My eyes follow you,
And we will find that glory-
Transcend a sullen earth
Transcend a mean humanity
And soar together into the blue eye of God.