Friday, July 29, 2011

The Flight of the Hawk

A sestina is a hawk, its distance
controlled by short wings
and long tail.  It’s the sprinter
among raptors. Flight beginning
close to the ground. Launching
from fence posts, it centers

its prey, spiraling downward, the center
a target distanced
only by the pivot of the launch,
the strength of the wings.
From the apogee of beginning
to the collapse of the sprint,

it frees the sprinter
for the growing definition centered
in startling beginnings,
understanding of the wings
of doubt and belief true to the launch.

The sestina launches
orbiting motion that sprints
to the core of unknown significance, wings
of character and dialogue centering
the delight of distanced
experience, a narrative’s beginning.

Each hawk repeats the rhythm begun
by hawk-fathers, time-launchers
whose wings have spanned the distance
of infinity, wings spread in sprints
that define and catalog the center
of conquest, the descent and ascent of wings.

Word wings
rise, their quintessence begins
to shape in relief the thought-centered
impressions that fly free from launching
emotions, sparks ignited to sprint
from the heart’s distance.

And so words are feathered wings,
their distance from time’s beginning
measured by the launch of their sprint.

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