My eagle glides across the sky;
beneath his show of mastery
a vulnerable nestling hides,
sometimes needing me to
smooth his storm-blown plumes.
His new aerie holds a diverse array
of feathers to fit all flights in life.
At night he grooms his plumage
to strut like a peacock,
hoping to attract the hens.
By day he soars incessantly
as the swallows --
travailing for achievements.
He requires an abundance of life
for ripeness to bloom
to attain the sapience of an owl.
Swooping back to this tribal tree,
his self sufficiency bruises
the ego of this mother bird.
I gaze as he wings away
and feel a twinge of melancholy
as my breast puffs out with pride.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|barb (220.127.116.11) -- Monday, March 7 2005, 03:31 pm|
your writing shows intelligence and feelings good job cap
|Terrie* (18.104.22.168) -- Tuesday, March 8 2005, 05:33 pm|
felt myself beneath it's wings, as it ptotects its yearlings..this holds great meanin' to me..tribal's sacred soul of the Eagle....thanx for sharin'..written w/such grace..an exclusive everso proud read......Terrie*
|Capricorn (22.214.171.124) -- Sunday, March 27 2005, 04:22 pm|
Thanks Barb and Terrie -- your comments are appreciated
Click here to read other Poems by Capricorn
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