The hawk and the storm

The storm winds rush

Heave through the canyon

Swirl off the ridges

Birds huddle among the bushes

Seeking if not warmth

At least to stave off the wet

To live a few hours more

A lone hawk rides the winds

Ducking, shifting

Soaring and plummeting

Always it cries

It's scream cutting

Over the howl of the wind

Free, it says, I am free

After a time

Tired but unbeaten

It reaches for a perch

It folds its wings

Ruffles its feathers

Shaking off the rain

Still, it rests as the winds howl

Then, with a cry, it flings itself

Into the fury

Of a storm freshened gust

Again and again it calls

As if to tell the storm itself

I am still here

I am still free