Benedictus

The red-tailed hawk circles frozen, snow-laden woodlands.

She glides, ethereal grace—
a bow, tenderly drawn across a cello string—
Benedictus.

Out of morning ice-mist, she lands on the closest branch of the closest tree to the studio window.

In stillness, she offers the final note, the sound of quiet starlight —
haunting peace.

She stared. I stared—
breath hushed.

Timeless time passed.

She soared high to the Unseen, leaving only echoes on the branch.
Free.

With no tether to time, she—
flies,
rests,
composes her music.

The hawk is knowing.
She is enough.

Can I hear the slow bow across the cello strings?
Ah, yes, the Unseen asks more of us.

—L.A.M.

Redtail Hawk © 2022 l.a.m.

notes-

If you’d like to hear what I heard, here is “Benedictus.”