WRITING: Communication

They call to each other, the hawks. One to
another, and a third, further out in the distance.
And they manage–
with the limitless sky as their pathway,
the winds
as the movement of leaves–
to meet.

Unbounded by fences or rivers or lines
of a county, a country, a large
sloshing sea,

they somehow
with sound and with instinct
without internet to guide them
find voice and place to alight.

There with senses alert and in touch
they decide.

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