Sunday, April 10, 2011

Blue Angels















Young hawks swoop low, they dive;
upwinding to treetops -
Blue Angels showing off.

The engine’s whine above
thins to piercing whistle
in web of microwaves.

Flying over rooftops,
Whispering silent prayer -
Royal flush to pasture.

Maneuver fanciful
in-out of spruce blue tree
Buzz fast a fearful squirrel.

Prayer, practice, praise and proof
of kill skills in blue sky.
Oh that way madness lies ---*


*William Shakespeare, King Lear, Act 3, Scene 4: the last line of this poem satisfies the prompt calling for a declarative old saying (stretched a bit, perhaps)

Day 8
NaPoWriMo

1 comment:

  1. A bit of majestic beauty in our tangled web of microwaves. Wonderful piece.

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