rain pouring down
and the hawk just sits there
getting drenched
When rain comes pouring down, sometimes there’s nothing to do but get wet.
Unmistakable, the size and silhouette of a hawk, and how it just sits there, no matter what, waiting with all the time in the world, his world.
Chilly morning and so much rain, no sign of life in the meadow but the hawk, who floats alone, with careful feet carefully hooked tight on a slender branch of pine, perched there almost all the way to the edge, riding the gentle waves with the easy eyes of a natural killer ever alert for any sign of life to strike like lightning.
Yes, life is awesome and vulnerable and beautiful, but the truth of the way of Nature is not nice and cozy, but neutral and tough. After all, the business of Life is life itself, and without death, there can be no life.
rain pouring down
the hawk just sitting there
biding it’s time
