POEMS/ Wings
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Wings
In the rain, I went to the river,
mind full of stones of despair.
I was cold and wet, heart full of dread.
This morning I saw a Bald Eagle
drive three times down into the river
after a muskrat, rise three times,
come up claws empty. No quitter,
he dove again, hooked talons
folded tight to his captive’s back,
and with his wings he swam the river,
rowing the water’s smooth surface
and brought his catch ashore.
I needed wings.
From Migrations, 2013
In the rain, I went to the river,
mind full of stones of despair.
I was cold and wet, heart full of dread.
This morning I saw a Bald Eagle
drive three times down into the river
after a muskrat, rise three times,
come up claws empty. No quitter,
he dove again, hooked talons
folded tight to his captive’s back,
and with his wings he swam the river,
rowing the water’s smooth surface
and brought his catch ashore.
I needed wings.
From Migrations, 2013
