Aquiline Ascension
Up on its aerie at the top of the world
It perches, plucking mottled plumes.
Arthritic talons, crimped from overuse
Shall have to be painfully pulled out.
Then even that dull rostrum will lie busted
Smashed against a freshly reddened rock.
Days will pass. Weeks, months (maybe years).
Wintry winds will buffet a barely living body.
But gradually, feathers, claws, and beak grow back;
Which is when Eon Eagle heads forth thus renewed.
Swooping so swiftly as to part oceanic waters
Before arching skyward, into the bluest expanse!
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