Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Okay, so I don’t know it was a male hawk;
but “in its talons” didn’t sound as good;
but I digress.
The well-stripped carcass, meat exposed
that so recently was beating flesh
back against the ice and snow below.
A raptor eating its prey in the side yard
in February, in the cold.
Yellow eyes staring at me, watching me,
slithering on my belly across the snow,
in a second pair of jeans, to capture more shots
more pictures, intrusions on his mealtime.
Little bits of down fluttered in the breeze,
clung to the hawk’s wet beak, its own feathers
huddled against himself, to stanch the cold
Eagerly completing its lunch,
ready to soar again
“if this stupid human would only leave me alone.”
Point taken, sir.

February 4, 2008
on the hawk I photographed a year ago,
reminded of him yesterday by the new carcass remains
in our driveway

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