Different style poems (storoem and free-verse) about a hawk and a dove in my backyard. |
Storoem version: I live in a suburban part of town. Birds of many sorts flock to my backyard. Yesterday a young hawk came swooping down, pinning a dove to the ground. It was hard watching as the hawk’s talons held the dove in a death grip. There was no struggle made. The talons pierced deep – quick death from above. The hawk’s curved beak sliced through flesh like a blade. The hawk tore and pulled apart bloody meat, feathers falling to encircle his feast. As the sunshine stoked the afternoon’s heat, the bird showed the cruelty of a beast. Pierce by piece, he devoured his poor prey. The other birds sat in the trees and called out alarms and protests in their own way. A male blue jay dived at the hawk, which stalled its continued consumption a short while. Scanning the yard with his black-pupiled, cold, yellow eyes, the hawk saw no threat worthwhile. The jay’s repeat dives were in vain, though bold. The hawk tore apart and swallowed until the dove’s body had no more flesh to give. Then he took to the air -- a sight to thrill. I’d watched predator eating prey to live. Free-verse version: My backyard was filled with numerous birds of many colorful varieties eating from my seed feeders – a quite idyllic scene, an idyllic scene suddenly violated by a hawk swooping down to catch a dove in a death grip in his talons. The other birds immediately flew to safety, seeking sanctuary in nearby bushes and trees. Their calls and cries of alarm and protest over what had befallen one of their kind, other prey, filled the air with harshness. The hawk had the dove, thankfully already dead from talons piercing deeply into its body, pinned to the ground. The hawk’s beak, curved and sharp as a blade, sliced into the dove, pulling feathers, tearing away morsels of flesh. Again and again he ripped away bloody meat and swallowed it whole. The hawk was a merciless devouring machine. One brave blue jay began diving at the hawk, coming within inches of its head. The hawk ducked a bit, but, after surveying the yard with black-pupiled, yellow eyes and finding no real danger, it calmly resumed its feast. The jay gave up its bold attempt at scaring and settled for screaming at the hawk while perched on the nearby fence. For long minutes the hawk pulled apart, consumed the dove, until the dove had no more flesh to give. All remaining was a circle of discarded feathers to mark the place where once was a dove. The hawk spread its wings and took silently to the air, its belly satisfied for the moment with its meal of dove. Watching this scene filled me with sorrow for the death of the peaceful mourning dove. Nature can be rather ruthless. However, I thought of the hawk, a truly magnificent bird. He also has the right to survive, even if for him to live, some other bird must die. I’d simply witnessed predator killing prey according to Nature’s plan. Please check out my ten books: http://www.amazon.com/Jr.-Harry-E.-Gilleland/e/B004SVLY02/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 |