Early morning light, I am awed
by your hawk body, talons clutch
my balcony railing
O to touch you through my window
dark feathers jostled by dawn wind
never before this close
I often window watch
crows, seagulls, ravens
shriek their alleluia chorus
you dip and dive above Aquatic Park
vicious jabs at your red tail, wings
finding refuge in Fort Mason trees
the noisy marauders relentless
their raucous mission
absent this morning
the bay air sings quiet
your head swivels, hooked beak
fierce face stare at me in frozen time
I start to cry
at the beauty of you
joined in a holy embrace
we circle the space of our lives
separated by glass
of so many windows
one smooth movement
wings wider than my arms spread
unfold accordion-like
your grip loosens silently you rise
greet the day
as if you were never here.
—
Elise Kazanjian is a San Francisco poet/writer who spent her childhood in Tian Jin, China. Her poems and essays have appeared in Fog And Light: San Francisco Through The Eyes of the Poets Who Live Here (2021); Marin Poetry Center 2021 Anthology; New Millennium Writings; and the San Francisco Examiner among others. She has worked at Sunset Magazine; J.W. Thompson Advertising; KQED; CCTV, in Beijing, China; and as a pawnbroker. She has a collection of over 100 fountain pens and mechanical pencils.
