An Old Eagle on His Eyrie Above the Pacific

“Silent, upon a peak” ~ John Keats

The eagle’s talons, firm, still grip, though old.

The scales on them clasp hardness there above

The ocean.  Harsh of voice his throat can scold

At everything against his long-term love.

He builds this fortress as the nest of heft

And branches large and deep because love needs

Protection and a home.  Each year a cleft,

And cleft, and cleft appear from eagle seeds

He planted in his partner, seeds to shells,

To cracks that open out to newness, beak,

And beak, and beak.  This love of beakness swells

Again, again from taloned love not weak.

  He knows (he knows) that someday he will die.

    He knows love soars and thus defies the sky.