A blue-gray pigeon swoops down,
glides, then soars over the roof.
It lives as if the rent were free.
It quickly comes down to feed.
It softly coos while on the ground,
picking up kernels one by one.
Light on its feet,
it strolls about carefree.
Its steps are measured and rhythmic,
then it takes wing.
A rogue, deep-brown hawk
hovers in the sky,
its eyes fixed on the pigeon below.
Patient and motionless,
it waits.
Then it plunges down,
hard, fast, and violent.
Its claws miss by mere inches.
It swerves to the right,
lifts its wings,
and comes around again for the kill.
It bursts away in a blur,
escaping its claws.
I've heard all the stories
about the hawk's speed and precision,
but if those stories are true,
why did the hawk fail
to kill the pigeon?
Again and again it attacked,
each pass bringing it within inches,
yet the little pigeon's instincts
kept it beyond its reach.
The hunger to hunt
met the instinct to live.
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Author:
rrodriguez (
Offline) - Published: October 23rd, 2026 18:52
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments3
Nicely written Rodriguez a beautiful chase of prey by preditor.
Thank you for reading my poem and commenting. Here in Puerto Rico, I see the hawks hunting, and it is quite spectacular.
You are most welcome my friend. I don't get to see that as often anymore. I used to see it out west when I lived in Montana, Idaho, Utah and Oklahoma but not so much I Florida or Brazil. It is spectacular.
The way I see it, neither the pigeon nor the hawk are the bad guys. They both need to live, and I think that’s just the beauty of life because it’s worth living. Very nice poem :))
Thank you for reading my poem and commenting on it. Much appreciated!
Wonderful imagery and a great last line, it's amazing when we want to find courage and strength we do so. 🌹
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