Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

nine raptors, afterwards

We hit the road at 6:55 to drive up to Arkansas. We had the good conversation my brother and I enjoy. We got a quick breakfast, we stopped at the Love's Truck Stop for diet soft drinks. We spoke of alien gamescapes,family matters, and a good place I suggested to get a rice plate in Plano.

I saw the hawks on the tops of trees and posts, as I have each of my many trips home this past few months. They stood, on guard, watching for mice and rabbits in the open pastures, in the last waning moments before the grass turns green and hunting tactics must change. A few weeks ago, I wrote a poem about the nine raptors who stood sentinel the last time I went to see my mother, a month ago when she was alive. I'd share it here, but I actually submitted it for potential publication, and people get touchy about these things these days. Today we arrived home, to a warm day when the fruit trees and camellias are in bloom. My father greeted us at the door, alone. We all went out for catfish.

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