An Eagle in the Morning

It’s from this rocky ledge I see her rise,
First low, then soaring up on high she flies,
With wings outstretched she glides upon the air,
A golden beauty quite without compare.

So effortless her flight, so wide her span,
Her fingered wingtips spread like feathered fan,
As if a regal dance she wants to show
To subjects in the broad green strath below.

The pure cool air is hers and mine to share;
I breath my portion temperately, spare.
She’s owed that thermal thrust beneath her wings;
My share’s sufficient for the joy she brings.

Parallel to my ledge she skims the air.
My breath is stilled, I’m silent, yet aware
Of her keen eye so vigilant, so bright.
Majestic bird, God speed your stately flight.