Wings

The call is long and lonesome, as he circles in rounds of rigorous flight. I squint to see his form drift on mild currents; a shadow searching for prey, predictor or partner?

Power emerges from his pristine wings, talons sharp and curved to cuddle prey, aquiline nose -hooked beak- for tearing flesh or perhaps, tenderly feeding young, needy chicks?

Robust red-tailed hawk, you’re fond to the falconer. Easily trained at youth, more common of the species and capable to be coached a hunter; you prefer the open skies.

Defend your territory, screech in full flight and announce to the invader they need go elsewhere. A mouse for a meal or a mate perched atop the trees is not to be taken.

Dwelling is no easy thing, as trust rings loud and clear. Our Defender is not the gracious hawk soaring on air currents, but He who made bird, wind and the man who sees.

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.”

Psalm 91:1-2

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