I watch the hawks —
watching me watching them —
and wonder how many of them I don’t see.

They’re better watchers:
-stiller
-more patient
-less swayed by boredom.

They stand, cloaked, as if in judgement —
Chief Justice of this street,
roving eyes in search of
one false move.

They are literal swoopers.
I’ve been accused of “swooping in,”
but I’m — at best — a figurative swooper.

Watch, swoop, catch, repeat…