Something Like You

A cold misty day so thick and gray
You can't quite tell where the stubble
Of the field ends and the sky begins.

You know where you are but you seem
To have lost a dimension, planted here
As if leaning in a Grant Wood landscape
Toward a tilting peculiar perspective.

Then you hear the hawk before you
See it. A cry that shatters the silence
Of the dimension that is his dominion.

And now no sound but your breath
Catching as he glides in slow arcs
And then swerves and dives toward
Something holding its breath like you.




Poetry by countryfog
Read 385 times
Written on 2011-03-31 at 11:59

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NicholasG
Is this the essence of empathy...or at least the sypathetic side of empathy. I have the same vision as you but know several people who would only see this scene from the hawk's eyes. A very crisp picture you paint, although I must admit I had to Google Grant Wood, which was well worth the effort.
Thank you. This was very enjoyable.
Nick
2011-03-31


Bob
Very vivid.
2011-03-31