Young hawk has left the nest perhaps
only for a trial flight but I hear it crying
at the front of the house this morning.
When Peter stood for the first time
on his own clinging to the edge of the
toy box he turned to me with a look of
panic at what he had done. What now?
his small face seemed to ask.
A writer I admire died last night
left this world I hope without panic
though she loved all that it held.
I hold now to her earlier advice
about knowing what you love so
that you can do a great deal of it.
Peter now moves easily through the world
India China Africa Iceland Europe.
The hawk will one day leave the nest forever
soar and wheel as its parents do now.
And I? I will continue to write.