All That Glitters Is Not Gold.

Soaring into the air, strafing the clear blue skies traversing land and moutains high, the eagle flies, a bird of awesome size. It's wings, huge bellows trapping air, send tiny creatures into spasms with fear. Stooping low, talons drawn scoop up unsuspecting prey an innocent hare out to play then lays its find in a nest on high food for another day. Birds in the air tremble and roll at the flap of its mighty wings that slice through currents of air, a powerful force on course to a distant shore. Silent like the wind that blows, the clouds that float, it sweeps the highs and lows a haughtier bird we'll never know nor witness allure so rare. With feathers of winking gems, illusive hues teased by playful rays of the sun, It streaks accross oceans deep turning waves into defensive ones that hope the eagle will not stay but continue on its merry way. Despite it all, man can only stand in awe, so rare,so wondrous a sight. With oohs and ahhs he stands agape, transfixed by a beauty untold yet remembers too the sayings of old All that glitters...is not gold.