Eagle
Nobody
wants
to be
that old bald eagle in a snow storm,
one only
high in a white frozen tree
bluster-blown
sometimes stiff as a rock
unheeded dead or living
eyes blinded by the stabbing nails of a blizzard.
Yet it is there
held fast and grasped by an unrelenting fate
while the high screaming wind
won't let go
nor
will the eagle.
You watch it from inside a stationary truck
wind-wipers swiping loudly
you notice nothing else
because the storm is wrecking
your vision you just watch anyway
as the chilled vista appears and disappears
and the eagle pins you down
with a bone hard steady stare
daring to survive
and you
pityingly safe yet
so small.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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