Här har vi en dikt jag precis skrev mest därför att jag tog tillhörande bild för någon minut sedan och tyckte den behövde lyrik.
The Hawk in perfect beauty
Circling the sky
She is a statue hammered from combat skill
She sees one weakness and a few seconds later - in a creation crafted in the immense attractive art of pain - she won
For love and peace doves it is all so confusing
They made a war monument but really it would be so much safer if built in the big tree
Though they never will win against the Hawk she toughen them up and now they sometimes chase away a few lonely black birds from the big tree
