Eagle Says Thanks
Above most Wele, unmade maker
My architect and, my own repairer
Hauler of my spare parts, my contraption of life
Quota of my breath, controller of my edges
No reason to bolt the beak, no reason to gather my feathers
I chirp all the day in melodies, flapping my wings like men dance
Leave alone the crow and vulture, you make me soar high
Quota of my breath, controller of my edges
Now am above sixty, you’ve re-pared repaired and prepared me
Sustained me at the peaked ice, survived me of the thicket storms
Strengths and efforts you renewed, and sustained my waiting
Quota of my breath, controller of my edges
Thank you lord for prowess, the flights and conceals
Thank you lord for sharp, resolutions of my eyes
Am not the crow that caws, in squeaky chirps I thank
Quota of my breath, controller of my edges
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