The Falcon

Does the falcon
see me
whirring by
beneath its great talons?

Would it have any way of knowing
I see it
every morning
like a spirit guardian,
like a guide from some other world?

Perhaps the falcon represents some entity
I have yet to know –
or nothing meaningful at all.
I’d rather it be her

(the one we lost)

keeping a watchful gaze
as I drive to work
beneath the gooseneck lamp post,
urging me onward

deeper still
into the forest
of my waiting dreams.

don’t forget the wild;
don’t forget who you are.

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