Raking In The Wind

Time was when a sun-bent hawk,
Pretending it had eagle's wings,
Met and fled a firebird
Rapt in dark imaginings.
Lyrical was flight as twain
Shot the season of decay
While the laughing Earhart winds
Tore each veil from breaking day.
Wilder still was parlous drive
Toward Katahdin's distant crest,
Certain aerie of reprieve
Just beyond upbraider's quest.
There, hawk traded cumbrous sail
For a noble falcons' wing
To outrace hoarse tanager
Which -- losing chase -- had ceased to sing.

by Judith Boos

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