a wild one

a peregrine falcon perch

thunder cracks at me in warning after warning,

so I hurry myself down the trail,

when the rain splatters me enough,

I wrap my camera and long lens in plastic bags,

the rain only feints at us and then moves away,

as I come around a ridge

I hear a complaining assertive call of something,

an irritated squirrel, I think

as I get closer and closer I wonder, and then

I see a peregrine falcon! at the top of a great tree stump,

where the upper trunk had broken away

and left a perfect perch where

it is just calling and calling,

I fumble with camera bag, plastic bags, 

and put the long lens back on,

I snap picture after picture of the falcon,

a wild one whose kin died off,

and this time we had the vision 

to find a way for the falcon to return--

may we have enough vision to share our world even more.

by Henry H. Walker

May 21, ’13