Walking into the clearing,
I see a crow
chasing a hawk,
gathering his clan
with his caw.
The hawk quickly lands
in the eucaplytpus,
and from where I watch
he seems to be cowering,
hunkered in his body
as birds sometimes do,
a behavior that robs them
of their grandeur.
I wait.
But the hawk does not
budge from the branch.
The crows circle the tree,
caw caw cawing, as they land,
one at a time, near him.
Finally, I look away,
to the tree from which
the hawk first flew.
And in that instant,
of course, he is gone.
Off over the ridge,
the crows in pursuit,