The Hawk

The hawk was a splendid sight to behold
It was sleek and steady in brownish gold
Winging and soaring its way all around
Definitely it was not homeward bound

It soared upwards with wide wings a-flapping
Then gliding smoothly and swiftly shifting
Without a companion, alone it flew
A hunting avenger out of the blue

I wondered whether it was on a hunt
Its every swoop was an artistic stunt
Or just showing off in the fading light
Until it was finally gone from sight