Friebert gives us a quiet scene in northern Michigan: strong winds push goshawks down from the open sky, and they settle in the shade of fences to tear apart their grasshopper prey. The picture is calm and almost casual. The birds eat "with easy purpose," as if nothing could trouble them. Meanwhile, they watch the "white smoke / of men hunting / the flying birds." The danger is there, but it is far enough away to be just something to keep an eye on.
The speaker doesn't comment or pass judgment. We get only what is seen, and the mood comes from that restraint. It feels watchful and unhurried, with a thread of tension underneath. The title helps explain the idea: the hawks have a kind of savvy, using the wind, the fence, and distance to stay safe while they feed. The poem suggests that survival can look relaxed, even though it depends on constant awareness.