Nature, Red

An eternal cycle of life and death

Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash

In the celestial realm of the sky, where the heavens touch the earth, a hawk soared with grace. Its wings, an elegant display of power, carried it effortlessly through the boundless azure expanse. With each beat, the wind whispered sweet melodies, as if nature itself acknowledged the majesty of this predator.

Down below, nestled amidst the verdant canopy, a plump dove, innocent and unsuspecting, danced among the trees. Its soft coos echoed through the woods, a lullaby that embraced the tranquility of the forest. Oblivious to the imminent danger that loomed above, the dove reveled in the serenity of its surroundings.

But the hawk, a predator born to hunt, had honed its instincts to perfection. Its keen eyes locked onto the plump dove, a jewel amidst the emerald foliage. The raptor's descent, swift and silent, cut through the air like a blade, casting an ominous shadow upon the peaceful scene below.

In a heartbeat, the world shattered. The raptor's talons, with razor-like precision, gripped the dove mercilessly. Its beak, a curved weapon of destruction, descended upon the innocent prey. Feathers scattered like autumn leaves caught in a tempest, floating aimlessly in the wake of chaos.

The plump dove, once full of life and vitality, now lay still in the clutches of the hawk. Its delicate form, once a symbol of peace, now an offering to the unforgiving laws of nature. The silence that followed was profound, a mournful requiem for a life lost.

And so, I came upon the angelic feathers on one of my walks and imagined the brutal act, as the hawk tore into the flesh of its prize. I mourned the life lost, even as I recognized the continuing circle of life, an eternal cycle of beauty and brutality, forever etched in the annals of the natural world.

Author’s Note

• A six-word prompt inspired this poem. I responded to the challenge with: Hawkish raptor catches, devastates plump dove. That response to the challenge was, in turn, inspired by coming across a patch of dove feathers—only feathers. It was as if the hawk had plucked all the feathers so it could enjoy its featherless meal of the plump dove.

• We have a Cooper’s Hawk couple that call our woods home. They go after rodents, small wild rabbits, and birds at our bird feeders, especially doves. 

• A quotation from Canto 56 of Tennyson’s In Memoriam A.H.H. also inspired me.

Nature, red in tooth and claw

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