The hawk
invites the
attention
of three boys
smoking weed
near the old foundation
in the abandoned
pasture
behind the funeral home
but they don’t
look up
as he rounds over them
unnoticed.
Perhaps he considers
the coal-spark of the bowl
from up there,
perhaps not;
more likely
the hawk
is as uninterested
in the boys
and the ruin
they’re using
for camouflage
as they are in
the hawk’s easy grace
as he passes hungrily
over what is
beneath him.
Importance
is relative,
after all: dependent
on where one is,
what one seeks,
what surrounds you
as you search.
What passes
among the boys
is irrelevant
to the hawk,
what may be
scurrying nearby
is irrelevant
to the boys,
and no one can ever say
what the ruin, the hayfield,
and the dead
think of all this.
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Dark Matter 
November 15th, 2009 at 6:20 pm
I like these images, and their simultaneous disconnectedness, as they proceed with life, innocently ignoring the greater oneness of which they are a part.
November 15th, 2009 at 6:34 pm
Thanks, Lauren. It’s something I think about a lot — the limits of our individual visions of life.
November 15th, 2009 at 5:12 pm
wow..
beautiful tale of life…
November 15th, 2009 at 6:12 pm
Thank you!