Perched At a Firing Sight

The eagle is perched at a firing sight! And pebbles salute Converged in a cannon of salutation Swift & smooth & sharp! Bowing near her golden wings All the pebbles greet Adoring the blackness of her beauty Luring her in vain Into a home-dance at the village square! The eagle is perched at a firing sight! And winds of terror blow Blowing everywhere Among forest paths & homesteads Unbeaten by protest-clouds Here in the sky – The hunter’s sling aims in vain Her feathered bosom Drawing away the eaglets. The eagle is perched at a firing sight! And stones in a hurry fly Over fawning protective leaves & branches More stones parachuted by hopes Of spoils & clannish fame! O eagle seated on the hunters’ disunity! Rejoicing in the eternal silences Enthroned in a nest of beauty Carved like a marbled soul of immortality. The eagle is perched at a firing sight! And pebbles salute Veering in a common confusion – Should she fly safely away Then hunters & their folks Could sigh for another decade Of her willful dictatorship – And more stones could greet Swift & smooth & sharp!