Where I live the road is the sidewalk

 

Where I live the road is the sidewalk

Slim for cars, wide for walking.
Me and my dog step to the side
for a Harley that stops.

Helmeted, hairy,
a man with a woman in tandem
asks directions to Apple Jacks,
our local dive bar. I begin to explain,
pause looking up as a Cooper’s hawk
pursued by a blue jay passes silently overhead
almost near enough to touch.
A spirit so large seems closer than true.

Jays of smaller spirit harass hawks.
Harass, in fact, everything.

My dog once pounced playfully killing
a fledgling jay that dropped from a nest
hopping not yet able to fly,
the dog momentarily puzzled
though not saddened by the death.

Sorry, I say to the Harley pair,
I was watching a hawk.
Yes, the man says, a beauty.
We share this random bond an instant
as the Cooper seeming to scowl
settles on a branch ahead.

Patiently eating grass the dog waits,
jay still squawking . Man and I resume
the giving and taking of directions.
Hawk with a shrug of feathers takes wing.
Man woman and I lift our heads,
a posture not of prayer but of worship,
and we watch.

……

First published in Windfall—thank you editors Bill Siverly and Michael McDowell.