papa joe hawkin’

every time
i see
a big
hawk
soaring
with large wings,
lopping like
a lost piece of
paper let into the wind,
i think my dad is
in that bird somewhere
looking down on
a planet he
had a short time
to figure out.

only gone for about
a month now,
he loved the
birds.

and now
i’m sure he has
used his well honed
sales skills
to barter a deal
to soar with the eagles
and peck with
the pelicans.

if this is only
a fragmented piece
of fiction in my
head,
i still find
more meaning
in his
enduring bird image
than anything else
these days.

so,
as the wings of
the latest bird leaves my periphery,
i soar into
my longing
to
talk
once more
to my dad
with his head full of
dreams
and pockets full
of wisdom dust
left behind
to forever change
the course of
everything
this planet will
ever do
from
here
on
out.