Soaring, high in the sky,
A red dot among white fluffy clouds.
Blackened wingtips caught in the wind,
Helping it fly with ease.
Beady eyes, razor-sharp, seeing all below.
No prey of this mighty bird,
Escapes its sight, nor its claws,
Once clenched unable to be forced open.
A beak as a knife, an unbeatable sword,
Used to tear apart prey.
A war cry issues from its throat,
As the kite gets ready to go in for the kill.
Above all, gracefully magnificent,
A crown of elegance set upon its head.
Yet ruler, king, over all in the air,
All except the Bald Eagle, its master.
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