Today would have been my dad’s 85th birthday. He was a lifelong falconer, so it seemed fitting that a hawk chose the day Dad passed away to circle the sky above me in grand, sweeping loops as it sang to the sky. It felt as if my dad finally had his wings and was saying goodbye. Four years later, I still think of my dad when I see a bird of prey (I’m sure I always will). I wrote this haiku in remembrance of him. Happy Birthday, Dad, from your chickadee.