Highway hawks perch regally
On branches way up high,
Surveying their surroundings
As the traffic passes by.
No leaves to offer camouflage,
They're easier to see
And heading to New England
Half a dozen I did see.
Though immobile, I imagine
Any second they might swoop,
Plucking rodents from the roadside
Which their talons swiftly scoop.
Glad I'm spared of such theatrics.
I enjoy their haughty pose
Which majestically inspires
Much more poetry than prose.
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