A hawk perched atop the dead tree outside my office window this morning. I think of it as the Hawk Tree now, because she and her fellow hawks prefer it more than the other dead trees in the stand.
In one of the living trees stood a crow, fat and black and clinging to a thin branch. He’d caw at the hawk three times, and the hawk would reply with her keening cry a few times. I saw them as I crossed the parking lot, light drizzle falling, and slowed my pace to watch. Continue reading “Alone in the Rain”