When the Hawk Flies Away

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

Silver limbs

Glint gold in the sun

Aspens dancing, spiraling upward

Among the still permanence

Of stolid rough-barked cottonwoods

Together, an al fresco manse

Room upon room, story upon story

With a ceiling of palest blue

She travels far and wide

Both on these winds and those no one can see

But still she returns to the cottonwood house

When working, she allows sight but no more

No capturing of images

So there will be no risk of capturing of souls

Her appearance delivers the message

All is well; journey done

But there are other souls and other journeys still

Now, empty cottonwood rooms

Lit by spiraling silver aspens

Beneath a sheltering blue sky

Are all the home that remains

When the hawk flies away

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.