The inspiration for this poem came from when I was studying food webs. When I'm writing about wolves or other predators, I like to see things from their point of view. I wolf hunts to feed its family and kills to save its pack. I have always remembered, though, the elk or the rabbit a predator kills. They had feelings (or I believe so) and maybe even a family. So this is the story of a hawk with a broken wing, and how he died to let his killer live.

The Bitter Wind

The wind howls its lonely song

I've to leave my life behind not long

A beauty forever, its voice and its sting

Thousands of sorrows for a broken wing


Of yesteryears I dream to sing

Thousands of sorrows for a broken wing

Never the bitter winds true fault

For ancient blood to one day halt


Their voices shake a dimming soul

Yet all I do is wish to be whole

The mountains cry heard never again

How sad to never catch that wren


The tumbling winds that brought me down

That broke my wing and shattered my crown

The king of the sky I was no more

No longer the bird of ancients' lore


A winter breeze sings only of death

For I have gasped my final breath

A russet fang the fates behold

To end a life that never grew old