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,

distanced

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.