POETRY

Sweet Night Hawk

I Hear Your Surreal Dives

As you eat all those nuisance thoughts rising from wetland brain tissue

Photo by Sunrise King on Unsplash

sweet night hawk I hear your surreal dives

I love you

swooping sideways in purple twilight you grant us the greatest gift

as you eat all those nuisance thoughts rising from wetland brain tissue

one star overhead shares the stage

and batwing I see your outstretched writer’s hands sculpting night into something digestible a family of mammals a book of poems born to night birthed in darkness

Author’s note: I am fascinated by gradations. The subtle changes of a thing we often sense but have no words for. One of my favorites is the three twilights: Civil twilight, when the Sun is six degrees below the horizon; Nautical twilight, when the Sun is twelve degrees below the horizon; and Astronomical twilight at eighteen degrees until finally night falls. But immersed in the beauty of evening, who has such presence of mind to count degrees?

© copyright by Mike Ketch June 2026: This is my original work alone. Medium is granted permission to display it solely on this platform. No part of it may be reproduced, copied, stored, distributed, or used in any form by any other party without my prior written consent, especially not to be used to train AI.