Cloudy Weather

For years there's been a hawk whose territory covers our yard, most of the near neighborhood and most of Bentley college across the street. He was a ratty old bird, and I think he's still around, but he never perched on the roof next door.
This new bird, could be a fight. Wasn't today.


Cloudy Weather

There’s a new hawk in town,
  could be the reason I’ve seen no rabbits this season,
Old one used to be stripy brown in front,
  ratty ugly head to tail,
New one look like he got a butlers starch dickey on
  above a brown belt, under manor tweed wings,
He’s the country gentleman who hunts as the gillie,
  ‘n then dines formal,
     "Pass the port,"

Who’s now roost upon the neighbors roof peak, 
  where silhouette gray skies point his noble beak,
Stern clear eyes surveys his demesne,
  his next meal set to seek,
While today, cloudy weather lifts no thermals,

The ol’ bird could still be around.
Someday could be a fight,
Or 'course, can’t tell which's a girl or boy with raptors, 
   ever try to stick yer pinky up a hawks cloaca?

"Hey Hawk!," I say by way of introduction,
"There’s chipmunks in my yard a’ times,"
   and
"I kinda like ‘em, cute, but you could take one, or two,
  sometimes, alright?"
He don’t speak. ‘s –o-kay, he's a bird,
And I’ve run outta things to say,
I’m sure we’ll speak again some day