Sighting of the Morning
—on the sixth day of Christmas
Look at that! Not a catbird but a hawk
Atop the steeple of the Baptist church.
Across the street we cannot help but gawk
At such a splendid creature on its perch—
Head turning north to south, then north again—
Eyes taking in the scene including us—
Breast, white though speckled, full, impressive in
Our view. To spot its tail would be a plus
But is impossible. This early on
A Sunday, only people passing by
Can see what stands where some cross could have gone.
Arriving later, worshippers will spy
Each other as they enter, maybe smile,
But miss the hawk which visited awhile.
by Jane Blanchard, first published in The Orchards Poetry Journal
Editor’s Note: Every birding enthusiast will find this ekphrastic sonnet charming (hint: this editor loves birds).