Saturday, 4 January 2020

4. My Eagle

He soars above the mountain cliffs
oblivious to the cooling autumn air
he roams in sweeping arcs
nudging billows floating by
he envelopes me with outstretched wings
and holds me close against the piercing wind
he watches as he glides nigh
and bestows upon me silent eyes

his visits are but few
— so that —
the wonder of these moments
does not slip away
unnoticed or unmarked
when he becomes my eagle
and I become his spirit.

One of my favorite places to be is in a kayak. One day, while I was silently paddling near Poets Cove on South Pender Island, I came upon an eagle perched upon a stump on the beach. He sat utterly still, watching me, not five feet away. I, too, sat utterly still and watched him. The longer we stared at each other, the more I felt connected to him. I like to think he felt just as connected to me.


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