The last of the midnite movie crowd stumbles, laughter bouncing off the walls and fading into the night as the parking lot rapidly empties.
High above the mall parking lot the Fish Hawk soars overhead in search of small rabbits. It turns north toward the old railroad overpass, silently past the traffic below. Gracefully, it banks sharply and dives. It glides silently less than 20 feet off the ground over the grassy field just to the left of the Pinellas Trail its eyes and ears straining for the sight and sound of it's furry dinner. The rabbits have not come to feed just yet, so the Fish Hawk sails silently underneath the structure that moans with each passing of an automobile overhead. The very tip of his wing brushes a support column. The column is very old, and from way up on high one can see the faded paint of a message left in 1973. It can only be seen at night due to the unique lighting conditions and the absence of the sun's glare. The message reads; "The Seed Sucks." The Fish Hawk now turns its attention to the grass lined sides of the Trail, and is rewarded with the sight of a young foolish rabbit feeding on clover in a pool of streetlight. It folds its wings and dives, puts on the brakes, talons extended and makes the kill. It begins its feed next to an old abandoned warehouse where weeds and vines do battle for purchase, clinging to the
weather beaten walls. The moon appears from a ghostly veil of clouds and reveals the details hidden by the harsh glare of daylight. Through a cobweb covered window are hundreds of imprints left on the dusty fiberglass covered floor. A mute reminder to the hundreds of chairs that held hundreds of teens timeless while their lives were put on hold. From out of the shadows a field mouse scampers up to the half eaten granola bar left by a worker from the previous week. Outside the moon once again slides under cover and the wind picks up enough to cause a slight buzzing hum to eminate from the metal roll up doors. For just one brief moment, it almost sounds like children singing. The mouse drops it's prize in fright, and runs back to the safety of the shadows, while outside the Fish Hawk has had its fill and leaps into the sky with a few mighty beats of its wings. It flies back to its nest in a tall pine tree that was planted in 1968 at a family picnic behind the Milton Roy Corporation off of Park Street. Some rare nights, when the wind is from the north, it sounds as if children are singing in this delapitated warehouse as well.
