Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Driving home, October noontime
a hawk to my left, above the tree line,
catching the thermals off the highway
It banks upward, stalling position,
like a World War I biplane,
steep climb, 70 degrees
falling in an arc
caught by the rising heat
canting its wings, catching the air
Further on, over the state liquor store
another soaring raptor, framed by
a lesser flier
a wide-bodied jet, rising skyward
to the jet stream from Manchester
effortless soaring, wings spread wide
contrails behind the jet, belying its
struggle for altitude, unnatural denizen
sharing sky with natural gliders,
embarrassed by the comparison

October 3, 2006 13:35

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