Many head for warmer shores,
Searching for respite among the restless scores,
But the hawk is steadfast no matter what instinct implores,
He braves the cold, and into the ice, he soars.
Some find his hunt vile,
Indeed there are things hard to reconcile,
But instead, I see his guile,
And from time to time, it brings me a smile.
For even in this tundra of snow,
Nature’s cycle evermore seems to flow,
Even when the winter winds blow.