The Hawk’s Lullaby

And still the hawk believed

he was not alone

in the treeless jungle

he built his nest on

for there were beasts

of the most unnatural forms

speeding and honking

and flying and falling

all around him.

 

They cried as he did

a cry unlike his,

booming and loud

and deafening.

 

They cried all day

and all night,

all the same pleas.

I am alone.

I am alone.

I am alone.

 

I am not,

the hawk thought

as he towered above them,

miniscule in size.

Not of the same feathers,

but of the same fears,

he slept in the comfort

of all of their tears

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