Waiting for Me

Much like with that little bird from a few weeks ago, a hawk waited for me this morning. It was in the grass near the parking lot, and as I drove in, it waited until the last second before flying to a lamppost. I stopped the car and carefully opened the door, trying not to scare it and when I had taken a few pictures, I parked the car and headed in the opposite direction of the hawk. But he wasn't through with me. He flew low, so low, his wings were feet from my shoulder and then he swung upward and landed on yet another lamppost. A second hawk cried out from a nearby tree, but my hawk only stared at the treeline where small things scurried in the brush. Once or twice he looked at me. He had let me so close I was worried that I might be the prey. But when I took my last picture, he dove away, soaring up into the sky and landing somewhere unseen among the far trees.