The Beatrice Ravenel Prize

Emily Abedon

 

Shrill and Young, and Most Persistent

Perhaps it’s not important that those hawks
Nest here, a quartet, four, just like my kids.
Maybe it’s not significant their squawks
Sound like my children’s calls to me once did.
My favorite dictionary (cover torn)
Offers: Coincident, and then defines:
(Helpmate since long before my brood was born)
Occurring together in space and time.
Also: In agreement; harmonious.
Sounds about right. I continue to read.
Then I learn baby hawks are called Eyas.
(With pronunciation guide that I need)
Eye us, I say too loud. Four hawks move on.
I see now, too, my four babies are gone.

 

©2020 by Poetry Society of South Carolina. Proudly created with Wix.com