Hawk Dreaming

Once, after a night of sparse sleep,
I awoke expecting to find
a hawk outside my window after
I had just dreamed of such a thing.

I split the blind with two fingers only to see
nothing but sparrows scattering.   
Looking down my long nose
at the broken asphalt and the puny birds,

I turned away unthinking of much.  
I did not call this “disappointment,”
but instead said at once “inheritance.”
It was the right word,

though I didn’t know why
until, heading outside,
I raised my wings
and tried to recall how to fly.