A new moon on a cold night
Is Francis lake
Reflecting the winged things
Busting out of a black and white coffee table bird book
The Birds of Canada
Leaving lifeless horizontal confines for
Dry death in a dust storm
Peregrine’s were meant to windhover –
Calculate shrews and clawsnatch gophers
So when the moon hides a little girl
In the reflection of a woman
Who can blame an old duck hawk for wanting
To keep her safe and avoid the echo of the moment when
The door closed
His daughter on the other side
Drifting into night.
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