The hawk’s immaculate eyes.
gaze down from its drift and
spots a flash of brown shimmer
disturbing distant grass.
Assuming I know the hawk’s first thought,
instinctual, immediate and without doubt,
I wonder if there is a second thought,
measured, reflective and existential,
and if that thought would be useful,
as the hawk tears down through gravity
with a single hunger and undivided mind.
its raptor brain electric with calculations,
talons extended toward pure apprehension.
Does the hawk pause a full second of time
and an inch long stretch of space to ponder
the ironic paradox of death feeding life?
No, the hawk is enthralled
by the blood muscle bone.
Nothing needed is left undone.