Twelve crows raucously circling,
dancing dervish loops against the cornflower sky,
drawing attention to the redwood heights.
Suddenly,
a hawk shoots into the air!
easily twice the size of the largest harrier,
easily it flows forth
breaking through their agitation.
Swooping and calling,
the crowd follows,
diving and taunting
in the wake of the
calm & steady figure
powerfully flying forward
on a course
unswerving and true.

The whole world
is calling out to you
“Like this!”
it goes,
“Like this!”…

Death,
my jesting friend,
come,
delight and feast
on the past behind me,
make it so
that I am called to break free
from hiding,
make it so
that there is no
going back.