POEM: Avian Game Theory

a murder of crows harasses a hawk,

out to steal the meal that wriggles in its talons.

the hawk giving its all to fighting crow will lose its squirming prey.

no crow is match for a hawk,

but no hawk is match for the murder,

and so all birds go hungry.

POEM: Dueling Grace of the Sun

The early morning sun warms the silvery shafts of a eucalyptus to a buttery yellow.

That seems a fine bit of grace,

until I see a hawk whose brown cowl is glowing gold in the same light,
as it perches watchfully on the one corner of a dilapidated building
that receives rising rays.