Blood at our doorstep

Blood at our doorstep

We have blood at our doorstep.
Jennifer alerted me while viewing our garden
from the kitchen window. I headed outdoors.

A hawk flew from ground between
two spruce trees to a branch across the street.
White and gray feathers, and blood, adorned

fresh snow, one animal’s desire to live
and feed itself ending the life of another.
A reminder of the circle of life

in the natural world not often visible
from the comfort of heated homes
and tended lawns. I default to peace,

not conflict and turmoil. With the hawk
perched on a branch across the street,
blood dripping from its beak,

eyes locked on mine, I thought
of human chaos on full display today
as leaders and others attack and disrupt,

enjoying the struggle,
licking their lips as prey
bleeds out before them.


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