I see the white underside

of a hawk

as it flies over our car.

I lean forward

the air conditioning blasting me

from the vents in the dash

and follow it

the length of the windshield

but no one else sees it.

I’ve seen hawks my whole life

when no one else did.

A friend’s mom

who was a spiritual old woman

said to pay attention

to what I’d been thinking

when I saw it

and to ask its spirit

for guidance.

My anxiety traps me

inside moments I can’t control.

Gale-force winds of dread blasting me

from work and emails and writing

and family and parenting

and living.

I can’t help but follow

this wind stream of this consciousness

as if my life depends on it.

I’d been thinking of the past

when that hawk flew over our car.

I asked its spirit
how to move on.