Trajectories #15

by David Chorlton / January 5th, 2020

The hissing all night through the palm fronds
gives warning that the Cooper’s hawk
comes to ride the cold air
when the doves awaken
with a shiver in their bones, and is
beautiful to watch
as he cuts a smooth curve
in flight while a few bright minutes
appear between the grey hours
and his wingspread shines
at the speed of morning light. Hope and despair
follow, each taking a turn
before the other pushes back. So
it goes as some new revelation
swoops down
from out of hiding
and flies away faster
than the evidence can prove
it was here. A circling flock
between the rooftops and the rain
argues for survival while the mountain
shoulders a mass of clouds, begging
the question of how much
the truth can ever carry
of what bears down every day
as today
with its intermittent showers
of mendacity.

David Chorlton has lived in Phoenix since 1978. He grew up in England with watching soccer as a major part of life although he has managed to move on to other interests since then, including reading and writing poetry. Read other articles by David.

This article was posted on Sunday, January 5th, 2020 at 8:03am and is filed under Poetry.