Brother hawk
Circling a rose-red morning sky,
hungry, it swiftly wings off,
only to lay in wait high aloft,
a small black harmless silhouette,
the hungry hunter on the stalk.
Even as the dawn wind softly talks,
few hear the warning it does set,
for the hunter wings down so soft,
to strike, and now the preys belly his trough,
his lives when another so careless dies.
Eyes gleam in the morning light this try,
patient hunter of the desert sky none scoff,
for in time he will succeed more then oft,
Brother Hawk, sky hunter and threat,
I watch him, my guide, as off he flies.