Spirit Hawk

A hawk lifts from the pines and flies toward me across the lake.

It lands on the grassy slope next to where I’m sitting on a blanket.

The hawk grows in size, becoming bigger than I am.

Its eye dominates my field of vision.

I ask the hawk a question about how I should proceed,

and in answer it flies away, back toward the pines.

I try to follow it, but as I reach the middle of the lake,

the hawk dissolves into the sunlight.

HawkMy drawing of the hawk from my visualization.

Day four, five-minute mindful writing, a small stone for Writing Our Way Home. 

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