THE HAWK

The Mountain Hawk lay next the brook there came his time to fall,
The grassy ground grayed by the gaze of the sun so dim as tall,
sights of tree trunks tread his throat to think there he had sat,
His Mount mourned merry mockingbirds her prey that she lay flat,
The sky did weep, such sightly soaring clouds did he behold,
the nest of she did build for self her majesty foretold,
Twas age which wounded the powerful fowl, life of royal led,
there dropped she upon the the brook which she herself had tread,
such majesty that crowned the hawk the queen of all her lair,
That sat upon thrown yet not a jeweled gemmed filled chair,
But a seat of one to the Glory of Great the Creator she'd exalt,
for when a man of mind would look upon such grain of salt,
he would see the glory of creation of The Greater
And think to self "if thus is such then how must be Creator?!