NOTE: I love the words of Gerard Manly Hopkins and thought it would be interesting to write a falconer poem, using the same last words in each line as Hopkins does in "The Windhover." More about me and my poetry can be found at sylviacavanaugh.com.
After Gerard Manly Hopkins
I refuse to be ground-bound like some king
rooted by weight of castle stone, riding
some cartographer’s stilted latitude, striding
through illusion. I will take wing,
soar as if on skyward wooden swing,
arm outstretched; my eyesight upward gliding.
There will be no more malevolent hiding
of small-drone military industrial things.
My falcon will deliver them broken, here.
A million aluminum eyes, titanium lies; a billion
spy flies shattered at my feet. I Luddite chevalier,
forge only the shimmering sheen of sillion.
O, the rip and tear of beak and talon, dear;
and my firm wrist, against guarded gates vermillion.
Published in Silver Birch Press Poetry and Prose Series
© 2018 Sylvia Cavanaugh
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