Red-tailed hawk cries softly, greeting morning,
preening plumage in the chill of dawn.
Her savage shriek declares unbroken spirit;
Hawk soars on high, and revels in her quest.
Morn's mist abates, unveiling scuttling quarry;
"Sleep soundly, owl and fox!", she cries, "All's well."
Keen eye and nimble talon garner bounty
'til coral clouds build castles to the west.
The beatings of her wings as she lights, roosting,
call Owl, who hunts the corridors of night.

Barred Owl, clear vision peering forward always,
sets forth in silent flight, as shadows rise.
Mazes set in bough and limb mean nothing-
he can decode them deftly, on the wing.
Swift and silent, elegant, he journeys
unseen by winking stars or watchful moon;
their gaze reflected in the dancing waters
illuminates the pathways of his prey.
In soft gray flannel mist he roosts at morning.

Owl shift has passed..
Hawk's watch begins again.

 

This is the first poem that was put on this site.  Gena was too slow, so Trudy wrote a poem.
 

Breakfast
by Trudy

I think that life offers no treat,
That I enjoy like breakfast,
It is so sweet.

Kibble or canned,
Scraps or not,
I'll eat it cold,
Or I'll eat it hot.

I'll eat moist,
Or I'll eat it dry,
You can't overfeed me,
I dare you to try!

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