Parade
The hawk
   remained by the side of the road
      keeping watch over its kill
as Jeanine and I approached in our gold Le Sabre.
He kept his eyes alert
   as with every crunch of the tires we got closer.
When we were stopped
   not five feet from him
      I could see my image reflected in his eyes.
And still he stood at attention,
    watching as we drove away,
       the last float of a boring parade.