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| His talons piercing into the tree. His eyes locked on prey hopping free. His wings unfurled to catch a rise, Just like a sail floating toward the sky. He circles round and picks his spot. He must shoot straight if the prey be caught. Like a lightning bolt flashing from the air, He zeros in on that bobbing hare. But way too late did the rabbit act. He just became that eaglešs snack. When he is done, there is the nest. Where eagle chicks will eat the rest. In the struggle of life, I am that bunny. Torn by that bird when life seemed sunny. You are the eagle with itšs shrill war call. I lived not in your heart at all! Penned by, Robert Edgar Burns Š 2003 |
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