A bird soars above
an eagle not a dove.
He watches over
The river
as the gentle waves quiver.
He glides down
and as he swoops
he disturbs
another birds coop.
he rests on a branch
along a riverside ranch.
He screeches his coo
And again
He’s on his move.
He glares down at the
White water rapids
and bolts from the forest
that is so dark and captive.
Rushing towards the deep twilight
Dodging stars
As he twirls in the moon
That has the glow
of pyrite.
His wings
Spread out into a gleaming bow
I looked upon him
With eyes of wonder
He has the power
of shuddering thunder.
No comments:
Post a Comment