North

The Bird preens its feathers

After a boring Summer

He prepares for his flight back South

It was a lonely season

Now he flies to meet old friends

He braces himself against the roaring winds

Soaring through the trees

Passing the hawks

That circle the sky

​

The Robin isn't afraid

Those hawks are nothing

Just shadows

Of a distant past

Though "distant" is relative

And now the Robins hunts

The best one can

He hunts for a future

Of love,

Acceptance,

And prosperity