Broad-winged Hawk

Robert Ronnow
The Ever Maddening Mandala

Broad-winged Hawk

Today I watched a broad-winged hawk eat its kill
on a stout oak branch seen from my study.
It took a long time tasting that squirrel
or robin, more time than I had patience for,
holding it with one talon while tearing
with its beak. An awkward tedious process.
When it was done feeding I searched the
understory for the carcass. Not a sign.
The hawk had wasted none of the muscle
and organs, nor the fur or feathers, or bones.
Later, I found the pelvic bone on my porch,
a message to mind my own fucking business.
This quiet neighborhood is undergirded
by force, violence. That’s a given—
any EMT will tell you that.