As I was rushing down the road,
Roadrunner by my speed,
No flock of traffic flying by
Was there for me to heed.
I, with mission, like a pigeon
(Who carries far a note),
So, straight I flew, and fast I flew,
A warble in my throat.
The country road was bare, except
A spot appeared ahead.
A feather tickled ‘cross my mind –
My first thought: road kill, dead.
But speeding near, I clearly saw
A hawk perched on his prey.
And stubborn was, as I bore down,
Last second flew away.
Amused, as I sped to my goal;
I had this thought and talk:
The game of chicken played before,
But never with a hawk.
photo via Wikipedia
© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.