Cooper's Hawk

By Greg Zeck

 

 

flash, swoop, skirl: doves

scatter as the black capped

hawk dives, drives its fuselage

into the target, impales the buffy

female cardinal emitting a godawful

squawk, clutches in its talons, ascends.

 

as the shaken wife and i, on the porch,

watch the hawk accelerate, drop our

newspapers in our laps, the headlines

braying asian americans face racial bias,

putin murdering ukraine.

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​​​Greg Zeck was born in Milwaukee, grew up in the Twin Cities, and taught college English throughout the Midwest. Now retired in Fayetteville, Arkansas, Greg reads, writes, hikes, bikes, and gardens. He’s published fiction and poetry in little magazines like Ambit, Barrow Street, Caesura, and Ginosko, and three poetry collections of his own (available at Amazon): Transitions (2021), Lost & Found (2022), and Glioblastoma Variations (2024).