Red Tail
By Cam Martin. Copyright 1997 (jcmartin@bak.rr.com)

What follows is the reaction of a glider pilot marveling at a red tail hawk circling in a thermal in the backyard on a sunny day.

        


         I cock my head to hear the cry 
         as back lit feathers sweep the sky.

         Around his wings the edges glow 
         while I admire far below.

         Instinctive twist, perfected turn 
         from my Creator's hawk I learn.

         Through great majestic arcs he's lead 
         banking steeply, flashing red.

         In lift that's weak, in lift that's strong 
         he's borne up, carried all day long.

         He feels the pulse, he feels the flow 
         he always knows just where to go.

         This hawk's Creator died.  He bled-
         so that I might be Spirit lead.

         With thankful heart I watch this bird-
         I yield my will, and mark His Word.

         The Spirit's call is aways near-
         sometimes I'm not quite sure I hear.

         I bank my heart into His will 
         and pray He lifts me higher still.

         God's hawk and I start new each day. 
         Are Spirit - thermals work or play?

         I must tell Him, when next we talk 
         how very much I like His hawk.
                 
                
 

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