Spliced into a motionless reel of cars,
I dream through a dusty window.
A soft green field-
Margined with yellow mustard blossoms-
Reaching towards a chorus of hills.
Life hidden beneath its grassy waving surface.
A cooper’s hawk hovers,
Pumps its wings,
Perches onto a utility pole.
For one moment,
I witness this ancient negotiation,
The field and the hawk;
I am pulled away,
Awed by their silent agreement.