birds · photography · poetry · writing

Bald Eagle

Intense, your presence,
fierceness of talons, bulk of
feathered might – humble
my soul’s rejoicing, grateful
to share this brief encounter.

(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day.)

 

art · birds · creativity · photography · poetry · writing

Feathered Presence

Fierce and majestic,
the bald eagles scour
the river, while I,
in awe stand witness.

Last year,
it was a mated pair
whose white crowns
commanded audience

Now, the offspring,
perches princely
claims this tract
and my allegiance

Feathered grandeur
and piercing eyes
a royal presence
somehow coherent.

(Inspired by the promptings of Ragtag Community: prince, and Fandango’s: coherent.  Also linking up with Granny Shot It’s: BOTD.  The image is from personal collection and available through Society6.)

aging · change · health · photography · poetry · spirituality · writing

Needing a Sign

Restlessness accompanies me
on the sojourn today –
unfazed by ripe red
belly of robin,
or shimmering emerald
of breeding merganser’s crown.

My lens seeks out decay –
rotting wood, darkened cavities –
as if my soul craves reassurance
that life persists even where death
hovers – I need a sign.

Discontent, I move on –
drive the river road,
snail pace – praying for
something to shake
this malaise –
birds come and go,
trees radiate Spring green,
I pause, unmoved.

And then I spot it –
across the river, high up –
a massive hulk –
lens raises, adjusts, snaps –
the regal hunter turns towards me,
regards me with ferocious intensity,
does not falter on his perch –

All-seeing, fearless,
he is spirit-manifested,
a messenger, lifting me
from stagnation –
momentary redemption.

(Linking up with my weekly challenge:  in-between.)

 

 

 

adversity · dreams · poetry · spirituality

Eagle Speaks

Eagle walks amongst us,
wings and chest puffed out
exhibiting wounded pride.

He is parched, dry-throated;
fear has clouded his vision,
grounded his glorious flight.

He shudders at indifference,
sidesteps throngs busily rapt
in personal agenda, forgetful.

Once regal, once revered, he
is reeling from the fall, seeks
a compassionate ear, finds me

in the Dreamtime, moulting
feathers clinging to ebony
legs; I try to brush him away

detach from his misery, but
cannot shake the power of
his symbolism, the promise

of his majesty; disconcerted,
through the veil of sleep, I
try to find reason, connect

push through the crowd of
disillusionment, and seek the
refreshment he craves, what

little I have to offer this
golden representative of
a nation momentarily lost.