The Eagle
In the concrete jungle of New York City
He stands alone watching for prey
Commuter traffic rush past without pity
To be on time for another day
The cars speed past with their engines roaring
The eagle stands erect and proud
He does not lift to fly above, soaring
Just remains amongst the traffic cloud
His feathers groomed meticulously
An array of colors of fall
Flawless, arranged regimentally
He does not flinch or move at all
Emblem seal of America's government
A symbol of a strong nation
A reminder for those ambivalent
A free spirit of creation
Looking back in the mirror where he stood
With the pride he is regarded
Seen in his place a twisted lump of wood
A piece of nature discarded
Copyright © Valerie Axford | Year Posted 2005
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