Fooling Around for National Poetry Month

I'll bite. Poetry, yeah, I read it. Write a few. Wish for inspiration. Here's one I'll share, and then offer a shorter version, maybe better, leaner, more core.

Hawk Song

In the woods, a hawk spoke.
She wanted to sing together.
“Sing,” she called, and we threw our voices.

Circling in my sky,
she flew endlessly as I wandered,
as I sought a different ending.

Like the hawk, I must call out, must circle,
must crease the air.

Difference is,
the hawk lives in the now.
The hawk never questions.

When I go, she becomes the woods.
If I am silent, her song spins on.

Difference is,
I need more than the hawk needs.
I need someone to hear.

~*~

Hawk

In the woods, a hawk

She wanted to sing

"Sing," she called

Endlessly

Call, circle, crease

In the now

Becomes the woods

Song spins on

More than the hawk