ONE TIME WINKELMAN
I walked for three days. I limped
for a week; mountain pass, and
valley too. Just tonight I watched
a hawk devour a blackbird. At the
top of a high pole, I saw black
feathers floating down, down to
the ground. And I heard a racket.
Two other blackbirds, on wires,
but twenty feet away, yelling
their blackbird heads off. I
stepped aside to look up high.
There, the hawk looked mean
yet royal, devouring what he'd
caught - ripping chunks away
and letting dead feathers fly.
Hungry and at work, not yet
quite sated, he did his work