Poem: Cooper’s Hawk (with Apologies to Wordsworth)
Surveying the buffet of opportunity below, where we
Who cannot soar, cannot glide, forlornly aspire
To shed our earthly shackles and be free.
You cannot be called a kind and caring raptor,
A patient pedant, with heart o’erflowing with generosity.
Your icy mission is starkly clear: to be a heartless captor
That kills and disembowels without pause for ruminant philosophy.
Yet we who walk upon the land, prisoners of gravity
Observe your single-mindedness with grudging admiration.
We see not a murderer swimming in a sea of depravity
But a champion inspiring our solemn approbation.