Within a dream,

a hawk above

gently rides

patterns in the wind.


Seeing this,

my dream-self

whispers:


Higher perspective.

Trusting the flow.

Hunting...poems.


The dream-hawk circling

comes to rest in a nest

high atop a sentinel pine.


I awake.


Circling above,

on this side of the veil,

a hawk

of the realm

of mountains and rivers.


The hawk glides down,

alights upon a sunlit pine;

inner world

outer world

merging

one.

Hawk of the Pines is the digital nest for the poetry of Frank LaRue Owen