I want to say a word
or two about hawk eyes
and mean it. This morming
for over an hour
on the balcony railing
eight floors above the ruin
courtyard, it watches us.
Watches over us. Perfectly
still, is it napping?
Is it real? Stuffed?
An office dog wanders
by the window. Suddenly,
a remarkable span of feathers
spreads out and across
our view of the river.
That was no duck.