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!
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