Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Morning

I look up with haunted eyes
at vagabond, ghost-like clouds
drifting on powder blue,
and scheming to surprise
on a journey in circles
with wings widespread, a hawk
searches for small prey,
a trespasser in a serene morning.

Why is it the bright light
this day brings
must carry undertones of a puzzle
grasping a piece of the sky,
like the hawk,
to make me wonder if you’ll show up
in a poem yet unwritten?

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Prompt: : Look at the sky and get it into the poem, the sky on April 24 wherever you are!