Field Mouse Dangling from a Red-Tailed Hawk
My first thought wasn’t the drama above
but the bone-tired scientist I read about
who held a mirror up to a mouse,
just to watch his whiskers
………………………………………. twitch.
Proof of self-awareness, the article said.
But how to read this one,
his tail clenched in the raptor’s claw,
swaying side-to-side
like the pocketwatch of a hypnotist.
He must be watching the horizon roll up
on one side and then the other.
…….. Must be dazzled by the soft green
comforter spread below—
canopy of hickories and poplars
he’s only seen from root level
until now.
Surely the reek of the Red-tailed’s body
assails his nose (instinct and observation
sniffing out doom).
At least he’s been spared the worst part—
………. the wanting to know why.
No groping for answers for him,
no wondering if life has some meaning
death cannot destroy.
I envy how he takes it all in,
soothed by the breeze ruffling his fur.
A lesson for the rest of us perhaps,
also carried along by unseen powers,
…….. blood rushing to our faces
as we try to make sense of the view,
wishing we could match the pirouette
he’s performing,
arms and legs akimbo, standing on his head.
by Ken Hines
from Rattle #89, Fall 2025
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