Feeding the Hawk 2
(Click on the last word when you get there)
Now
the trees are bare, ice
beads at the end of twigs
A sparrow lights
And settles
preening, still. What holds it
with the night falling around it
On its bough
A redtail
kept for falconing, stepped off the glove
And I remember how that hawk
Begins to close
Its talon
over my flannel shirt, pausing,
holding still, holding me even