What The Falcon Knows

in 1992 you and your children watched the sparrowhawk

tear apart a songbird, steaming guts in the snow

much better than the make-believe violence of

Saturday morning cartoons

thirty-four years later I pause on the paved

bicycle trail beneath miles of high-voltage wires

stretched between iron pylons parallel

to splintered wood poles moving electricity

into houses and mobile home parks

two kestrels perch there, occasionally dropping down

for lizards and grasshoppers

a short lifespan of less than five years

fires the intensity of patient waiting and

promises of fulfilling meals

just watching them makes me hungry

for things I can no longer experience

the first time

[RK, 11/28/24]