I gazed out of my window,
As the breaking of the morning light,
Slowly streamed in. Oh! So bright.
But before I could shield my eyes with my pillow
I saw it swoop down, as if it travelled at the speed of light.
It reached out and grasped the little critter in razor sharp talon.
Talons that flowed with power, justifying its might.
It glided up and gracefully landed atop a wooden pylon.
A tribute to a world it once knew,
Where it was king of the sky,
Free to the open air, day or night, it flew
And now it pleads with its eyes asking us, “Why??”
Yet, even perched atop a pylon, it makes us seem feeble
Oh, how I admire the precise mighty Eagle
