The Call

A loud scree of a Red-tailed Hawk                                               fills the air. The sharp cry breaks                                             through a quiet afternoon

like an intonation of sacred bells                                               when we are summoned to be alert.                                               This scree soon dies away

to a softer remnant until only echoes                                           of it like an earworm of song remain.                                           Sounds awaken us—place us with our

feet on the ground, mind in the same                                             spot, a brief respite from busy thoughts,                                       it’s our North Star in finding peace.



This poem published in the Methow Arts Alliance’s Winter 2017.18  Quarterly Guide to Local Arts and Culture in the Methow Valley.