Snapshot: Shameless

As we were driving out of the alley Sunday night on the way to dinner, I saw this hawk standing on our neighbor's lawn surrounded by plumage...lots of plumage. He/she didn't fly away right away. As we watched, they stomped the ground with their feet.
I usually think of my Dad when I see a hawk because he's the one who always pointed them out to us. But this hawk, straight up, murdered a mockingbird. Not only that, he then was stomping on their remains.
I took it as a Sunday night omen. The hawk was Monday and I was the mockingbird.

Turns out, today was not the equivalent of being murdered.
Monday, check.