I claim the skies they are all mine
the rivers, brooks and the pine.
Instinct, raging through my veins,
like droplets falling in heavy rains.
A yearning swells within my being,
an un-controlling type of seeing.
The need to catch to kill to eat,
to tear and rip into the meat.
Spotting quarry from half a mile,
I’ll have to use all of my guile.
Swooping low through snowy trees,
for this one prey I soon will seize.
A fresh new kill to fill my need,
as talons pierce, he starts to bleed.
A heightened sense of survival,
this little mouse, a trifling rival.
Air currents belonging to the sky,
blowing beneath my wings, “I fly”
Lifting me to greater heights,
as I ascend into the nights.
Alert to all the forest sounds,
observant of my hunting grounds.
Protective of my eaglets nest,
under my wings, amidst my breast.
The echoes on the howling winds,
reminds me of my feathered friends.
An eagle’s aviary, patrolling skies,
lost in clouds a grand disguise.
The fight for freedom has its cost,
many have tried and many have lost.
But still the scent is fresh at hand,
across the vastness of this land.
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
Thank you
Dove*
...
Cindy
Bunny
