Half a Second

First light, blue window over
Lake and woods, and a pale hawk
Passes the window, feathers

Brighter than the background clouds,
With a spray of little birds,
Right behind it, mobbing it

In a burst of small bodies
All cheeping, silhouetted
Moment in the old drama

Of what gets to live and have
Offspring live after it, who
Gets to eat. Then they’ve shot past.

The window is blue from here,
And the view is almost still.