. . .

no petting zoo

it was a strange encounter

a first-timer in my backyard

(“my” yard?

not in actuality

they were here

long before i settled in

without an ounce of humility)

unprepared this time …

(no fancy camera at hand

nor the skilled clicks of my phone)

thankfully

my eyes were opened wide

and i took the picture of the hawk

in its stately perching-pride

with my enchanted inside

its persistent presence

appeared close to mine

quite close i’d say

but it was intimated

not in the slightest

and I cannot say

that i was in my brightest

utterly sleepy at best …

the few-feet-long divide

was still a major delight

unlike “my” other little animals

that come and leave

as they ever so please

run or fly away at times

at a single wave of my hand

the hawk made a secure seat

out of a branch of a barren tree

right at the border of “my” land

amid many of others

that were dressed in dainty leaves

it then flew off …

close enough to the ground

seemingly showing off to me

what it was (and is) capable of …

i stayed on for a while

too long

for a cold mid-November-day

looking forward to its return

to its to-be-continued servings

of customized discoveries ahead

it did not come back …

it may have been so

for it probably did sense

how much i was taken aback

by its self-introduction of grace

besides

a living being like that

cannot be held in chains

it is after all

(and must thus remain)

as one of the freest avians …

so i turned to my good old

worn-out wind-chime

hanging downward on a hook

i wanted it to create a tune

the wind however

(contently in a deep nap)

simply refused to play along

i looked around

and saw that i had

(right at my fingertips)

a symphony of a collective sound …

“my” other wild birds

“my” leaps-happy squirrels

“my” big and small cotton-tails

“my” time-traveler chipmunks

had all gaily gathered

for an in-rehears-able

tap-dance routine

vying for my attention

about to show off once again

their daily acts of loyal affection

hülya n. yılmaz, 11.14.2017