This poem is called: Sometimes

Have you noticed how quiet it is when a hawk is in the trees, somewhere?
Everything small takes cover. Cautious. Unwilling to take a risk.

That’s how I feel sometimes. Unwilling to take a risk, I mean.
I feel a tension in my body. I don’t want to be exposed.

So I sit with my tea, warm in my chair and let the fear pass.
I’ll join back in when the birds signal that the hawk has moved on.

Life is that way sometimes. I feel better waiting a little while for the danger to pass
before I am ready to let myself be seen once again.