I watched a little hawk perch in a tree then dive
To penetrate the low bushes in a lightning attempt
But the mouse or bird made a break for it
Too quick for raptor’s grasp or human sight

For years now I’ve seen more hawks than mockingbirds
Heard more often the high aggressive screech
Than the solemn antic melody
The careful alternation of play and grievance

Mockingbirds sing to ward off rivals
And to call hither their candidates for beloved
Hawks call out I know not why
Though like mockingbirds more often heard than seen

But this hawk sat silent upon the bough
And silent made its attack and made a silent second attempt
But when its quarry twice played away
Twice issued the anguished cry of defeat

And for the mouse or bird that got away
The hawk’s defeat meant no victory but mere reprieve
Nature requires the extremes of withdrawal and attack
The disparate parity of seizures and escapes

And all that lies between and beyond the extremes
The furtive herbivores the patient herbs
Molds that corrupt the dead
And trees that grow from the corruption

And those who traded the hunter’s cry
Traded the hunter’s few wins and many losses
For the risk-reduction though risky enough
Of agriculture and its discontents