Red Tailed Hawk
My father was a red-tailed hawk
flying high above my youth
A fine and feral form was he
with wings so wide and long enough
to suit my myths and distance too
to better serve my sullen, silent ways
Though I see now
among my multiplying years
I'd built that sky and placed him there
no better cage a son could find
and with him dead ten years and more
the cage passed on to sons of mine
I find in dreams he's come to ground
and in the early hours will call
a sign to me that he is near
and watching now as I watch
over my own