Shadowed beneath wings of might, A hunter waits in quiet sight. Eyes sharp as winds that howl, The hawk's cry begins to prowl. Silent footfalls on the earth, A hunt, a death, a new rebirth. Patient heart with arrow drawn, Awaits the breaking of the dawn. Beneath the sky’s sweeping view, The spirit of the hawk, true. Guides the hunter's heart and mind, To strike with power swift and kind. The silence roars, the pounce is made, Hunter and hawk, a dance displayed. The lesson learned, the gift is given, Under skies that span the heaven. ~Copyright Randy Salars
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