Human: Hawk and Mouse

A hawk glides in a february gust-- searching. Searching to live. For

the simple pleasure of a stomach not empty this bird of prey bears

frigid winds for food.


Circling above…floating… and then a swift dive and strike.


A mouse, that also fends for morsals, feels talons stab into its

sides. Small lungs fill with blood as it’s lifted into the hawk’s airy



Flying, as the last bit of existence bleeds out from its mouth and

punctured ribs. Flying as the world fades from its infitesimal eyes:

infitesimal being. A mouse that was irrelevant in the world of

humans, but means everything in the world of this hawk.


I wonder if we are not like that same hawk destroying what gives

us sustenance. Like the air we breathe and pollute. Laying down

tar to dry over the same lush nature we grew from.


Like the hawk that tears red, wet strips of meat from bones we tear

away the fabric of importance from everything else but ourselves.

The End

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