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Red-Tailed Hawk For Kenneth Fields Your hawk today floated the loft of air That lifts each morning from the valley floor. Dark idler, predator of mice and hare And greater vermin, as I watched him soar Out of my sight, taking a certain path, Knowing from ancient blood, instinctive might, How to survive beyond the present drift, He seemed to shift from nothingness toward flight. Yet it was real, the warm column of air— Like being, unrecorded, always there.  You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...

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