Cuauhtemoc

August light catches the roosting falcon
In Indian summer twilight
A momentary lapse in the sombre hues
Cast from the sinking sun
A pause enough for the pale grey feathers
To catch fire
For this master of wind and air
To draw flame from within the hooked head
Hooked feet clasp rough bark
A gaze locks the rugged land
Hooked feet become hooked wings
And the gaze remains
A constant guard over her dying land
She is an immense world of delights
Gliding from one plane to the next
Uninvited in every one
Yet far from a stranger
She would see herself as a guardian
The watcher of all things
A lost angel upon a darkened earth
Far from a stranger
She embraces the rolling landscape beneath
While gliding she kisses the air