The bird with wings as rouge as desert sand,
bumbled into the dark and lifeless grove
with trees like scarecrows poking at the stars in the firmament,
as it was being chased by a relentless hawk.
It had already
incapacitated one of the bird’s wings
by lacerating it with its talons.
The bird weaved through the thick woods,
over and under branches.
Breaking through the dark brown leaves,
the bird could feel the distinct lines of their veins
as it knocked them off of their branches.
But the hawk kept on his trail,
thwacking limbs down
with it’s immense body.
The bird knew if it kept flying
the hawk would eventually catch up to it,
so it tried to hide instead.
It lowered down.
Hiding behind a tree,
it could feel the rugged
yet soft bark like the bottom of a pair of new sneakers.
The hawk descended slowly.
The bird could hear the whir of its wings.
As it was landing,
the hawk’s wings pushed dead leaves away from it.
The bird could hear the hawk walking,
leaves crackling with each step,
seeking the bird.
The hawk quickly went around the tree
the bird was hiding behind.
Once it found the bird
the hawk raised its talons,
ready to strike.
The bird felt its heart beating
like the clicking
of a rollercoaster.
But a clang
reverberated across the woods
and the hawk had fallen.
Behind the hawk was a shovel
and behind the shovel was an old man.
“Stop annoying the little critters,”
he said in a cantankerous voice.
As the bird flew onto the man’s crinkly old hands
it sang a beautiful aria.