I measure my days by how many hawks I’ve seen. One hawk is a so-so day. Two hawks are better. Some days I catch them Sunning themselves on telephone wires or gliding slowly above as if they are beckoning me to follow and follow I do with my animal spirit strength, clear and in the moment I soar above myself pulling clouds along and raking my talons across winter-closed earth terrorizing the rodents of my indifference with ink-dark wing shadows stretching out toward possibilities . . .