Cuauhtemoc August light catches the roosting falcon In Indian summer twilight A momentary lapse in the sombre hues Cast from the sinking sun A pause enough for the pale grey feathers To catch fire For this master of wind and air To draw flame from within the hooked head Hooked feet clasp rough bark A gaze locks the rugged land Hooked feet become hooked wings And the gaze remains A constant guard over her dying land She is an immense world of delights Gliding from one plane to the next Uninvited in every one Yet far from a stranger She would see herself as a guardian The watcher of all things A lost angel upon a darkened earth Far from a stranger She embraces the rolling landscape beneath While gliding she kisses the air
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