the last journy they will take, because of man now its far to late.
The land below passes and it passes over it, over and onwards always flying to find a place to stay.
A place to call home.
Its home destroyed to make way for a mall. The humans never cared and the hawk disliked them all.
The snow capped mountains could be seen as it soared higher and higher.
A valley of greens and colour caught in the centre of the mountain land.
Other hawks meet up with the first each carrying a hope to find a home.
The land in the trees and on the ground each calling out as the sun sets and they finally sleep in peace.
Thousands of spirits take flight and join the stars in the sky.
Now there are no more hawks.