Seven
crows upon one hawk!
Isn’t
that the way?!
It
takes seven scavengers
To
attack a bird of prey.
The
sky, as their arena,
Saw
how the hawk did dance,
Its
wings far broader
Than
the blackened spines of chance.
Cowards
one and cowards all
Crowded
‘round together.
But
not one dared
To
take it on—the raptor, far the greater!
Yet,
the raptor stayed engaged
In
that piece of sky
When
it knew the heights it could
Fly
and fly and fly.
There
it stayed up in that air,
The
seven ringing ‘round,
Until
they grew weak and weary.
Then
the black ones sought the ground.
The
hawk it flew far out of reach.
The
crows clung to some limbs
For
they were cowards one and all
And
the hawk the king of winds!
M.R. Hyde
Copyright 2018
