CALLING THE HAWK

Loud blow the trumpets,
silenced is the talk,
as everyone watches
the gliding hawk
enter the valley
to land on the head,
of the one now to lead
the many unled.

Then came drumming
the beating of bones,
pure expression of
mingling tones,
sounds and voices
enclosed within the
steep, sloping mounds
of the collective kin.

The silence returns,
…..everyone waits
for the coming of the
Keeper of the Gates,
to enter the circle,
extinguish the flame,
while chanting the
Hawk's spirit name.

Loud blow the trumpets,
the hawk takes flight,
everyone watches it
soar out of sight,
the new leader signals
for a line to form,
the Queen Bee ready
to relocate the swarm.

Morganpoet