Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                       Death Falls Apart in White

Snow does not fall in July, and yet there is white
White falling like snowflakes or flower petals
White scatterings across the summer lawn
Ghostly among the leafy sheltering oaks

The hawks are back

An egret about her business of bugs and snakes
Sudden violence high up in the gentle air
Flesh and life claw-ripped, torn, and devoured
Unheard below, only feathers falling as death

The hawks are back

This artificial paradise of feeders and seeders
And flower-bordered lawn is a scape of death
From which the gentle rabbits, birds, and squirrels
Withdraw in silent fear

The hawks are back