old hawk

one day late this fall
after all the others had gone
I noticed one had stayed behind

chosen to it seemed to me
though it was easy to see
why that might not be

leaning low into the slant of light
where he’d watched his watch set south
with the sun without him

still there nestled up high where
they’d been born fed and bred
all one long summer gone

did he feel spent
content a little afraid
or just cold in the wind

hoped he’d somehow know
that the future he was letting go
would bring them back in the spring