The Fire and the Rose
Yesterday I was walking Sky (the Corgi so named) and I looked up and saw one of the hawks circling, a rich reddish glow of sunlight on his back as he banked and turned. I stopped and watched briefly, then walked on, but soon heard his unmistakable call above my head. Looking up, I saw his mate, a bit to the south. He was calling to her and, I believe, to me. Slowly and easily they circled, closer and closer, a sublime dance in the vast clear sky. I stood transfixed below, gazed in wonder and awe as they drew closer together, turning and turning in the gyre, in the flame, towards the bright sun. I whispered, "Ah! my beauties, I cannot follow thee, where you are going, not yet. But I will carry you in my heart, and write the story of this moment, your winged grace, your eloquent vision." I walked on home. The line from Robinson Jeffers' poem came to mind...."give your heart to the hawks." It is not in Roan Stallion , but looking there, I found this: --------...