For the Clouds

Remember the unkind ravens
on Mother's Day attacking
the red-tailed hawk gliding towards
the tall Douglas firs on the hill

a dark attack of three soaring, yet
darting effectively amid wisps
of white cirrus backed by
blue firmament not fazing,

floating away from an evening
mist impending down off a
northwest wind! Kraaa! flee into
some other territory they say

perhaps but not here so
further east.  Elsewhere!
protecting a nest of young and
food, the strike speaks clearly.