Emily Dickinson - A shadow of a hawk

A shadow of a hawk,
Is felt upon the ground,
As through the fields and tree trunks,
The chant of evening sounds.

And every beetle watches,
And every flower sways,
And every quiet creature
Discerns the Hotter Days –

Yet the sky, above shall whisper,
A music all its own –
A cadence of Empyrean
So unlike the moan –

Of trivial forms! Reflective!
Of very simple thoughts –
Where the sunlight lingers,
In the velvet of their knots.

“A shadow of a hawk”