on the fence this morning

there was a hawk, not a hawk
that is elegant, a wonder to behold
anywhere and especially here
on the fence this morning

the small bird probably a sparrow
was not dead but then it was
dead the hawk removed its feathers
one by one off they floated it was
definitely not

a happy ending it was
not a Hollywood ending the flag did not snap in the breeze
the stuntmen did not get up, no
the hawk flew away

it was that simple
the neighbor's children a boy
and a smaller boy dug a hole for the bones it was
an old, old ritual they made innocent
with scoops from their red, plastic trucks