As soft and gentle as the Eagle flies, it spreads its wing's
through the spacious skies. In its round about ways it
circles the trees, with a gentle touch of a soft cool breese.
Beneathe its wings, the wind has caught, and lifts him up
but not alot, for it's up to him to find its place, or forever
the sky is all but space...
I have the permission of posting this poem on PS. This poem was sent to me originally from
Todd Gilmore of Bunnell Florida