The Watcher

Sitting on the shore watching the waves crash on my soul.

I look in the yander, where the moon meets the horizon.

Snow capped mountains in the distant.

Taller than life,

shorter than love.

A hawk circles its prey,

and settles down on an ocean island.


just waiting.

But for who?

The only thing I see is a bamboo shute,

going where the hawk is sitting.

Itís beautiful.

Its brownish red feathers and a golden beak.

I watch, as it leaves its perch and circles again,

before landing by me.

Watching me.

Following me, as I up and leave.

I feel safe, as I am watched by nature.

I remember,

that the ocean and sky are there for each other.

Feeding off one another for life and existance,

I see now,

the spirit guide.

The hawk.

Whose eyes are sharp and sees all.

I will never be alone...


Michelle Poet

January 15, 2001