At the First Gathering after the Pandemic we look up from our wineglasses,we look up notice the shadow of the shinned hawk   near orange blossoms hung from the swag of leavesa table covered with green oilcloth spattered with hibiscus   and the baby on her knees on the deckpushing a toy and making soft noises, our laughter   above platters of mezze warm in the sun, stripesof sunlight and then shadow fall across the table   as we notice the dark mass hung from its clawsthe round furred body and the tail swaying   as the hawk drags it above the fence post towardsour party, the stunned silence as…