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.
Christine's Room 