The Eagle Poem by Christopher Nicoll

The eagle soars in its majestic flight
Surveying its kingdom from a glorious height.
Roaming, seeking, searching for
That which he has not found before
That ephemeral sense, that fleeting feeling.

The reverie is broken, the quarry has been found,
An innocent little hare bounding on the ground.
He rolls his body vertically down,
In the stoop, his wings tucked all around.

The natural feather missile, makes the air scream out,
In an instant, he strikes as he levels out.
The kill has been made
The prize in his claws displayed
The thrill is over, the chase is done.

The eagle again returns to the busy nest
As the sun sets in the golden west.
To his family the prize is displayed,
It is the same as every other day.
The same as every other day.