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.
Copyright © Margaret Okubo | Year Posted 2007
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