(An ode to my typing skills: 0) .)
Like a circling hawk, over the corn,
Searching in patient swoops,
An index finger, so forlorn,
In ever decreasing loops.
Then like a kestrel, hovers,
Above his chosen prey,
Drops like a stone, all alone
To stab the letter ''A''.
Laurie hill
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-ode-6/
