On Avon

On the leeward side of the Avons

Where the sun breaks over the ridge

There's a trail I like to ride on

No pavement, traffic, or bridge

And out across the flat

By the pond and through the grove

I break off to the left up a snowy little cove

And Rondo breathes hard at the trot

And I spur him all the way

So that we can make the mountaintop just before

midday

Where there, below the pines, by noon I tie him off

And sit upon the big gray rock

And find the graceful hawk

That flies through every draw and grove

Searching for his prey

And I sit there in his mountain home

To steal part of his day

His home of mountain majesty

Where cattle freely roam

And storms that rage so wildly

That it can't be called a home

I've seen this land from every nook

And every worn-in trail

But I've never seen it up from where the mighty hawk

can sail

And I can hear him calling

Once, twice, and then he's gone

And it breaks the mountain silence with a haunting,

longing song

As Rondo eats his grain I brought

To give him for the ride

And me, a tuna sandwich

That cures the pain inside

The hawk takes roost upon a limb

And we all dine together

As he rests the wings that cut the winds that rustle

through his feathers

To live

Survive

He hunts again

And calls his haunting cry

And it sets the scene and space for where a man would

wish to die

When later, Rondo turns for home, as the hawk is

finally gone

To fly again

So far and free

Like me

Upon the Avon